


A New Day

by imladrissun



Category: Iron Fist (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-10-13 02:34:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 27,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10504635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imladrissun/pseuds/imladrissun
Summary: Iron Fist comes home; there's no magic realm at the gate. How do Danny, Ward and everyone else go forward as the Defenders start their tenure?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Why Mr. Nelson, I'm Blushing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10350336) by [Emanationman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emanationman/pseuds/Emanationman). 



> This story presupposes that part of Iron Fist season two has already occured, and that the Defenders has already started--so Danny has defeated Harold, while Ward has been rescued and he and Joy are on the same page. 
> 
> Danny, Ward and Joy are a kind of family together, existing in the aftermath of everything that went wrong in season one -- It's basically a look at how nice a Foggy/Ward life could be <3 To read more translations go here: http://www.carlsensei.com/classical/index.php/author/view/1. Or here: https://otove.files.wordpress.com/2012/04/buson_haiku.pdf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yukikurete ame moru yado ya itozakura  
> Darkness overtakes us on our way; in my lodging the roof leaks; weeping cherries in flower  
> [Buson]

Danny eventually brings a lot of people into his orbit. After he rescues them all, for which he is eternally grateful, defeats his father [whatever that monster truly was, no one is certain] and saves Joy from the influence of the Hand and Gao, Danny finally starts going through basic GED study books. At Ward's insistence. 

It's also because he wants an excuse to hang out with him, Ward suspects. And keep watch. Danny's been acting worried about him ever since the cremation. Ward himself just feels kind of numb. At least he and Joy are back, tight as ever, and he and Danny are finally enjoying their friendship. 

The only other nice things in his life are the few times he gets to see Danny's fighter friends--he kind of enjoys Jessica Jones's sarcasm, and he's happy to see Danny find a true friend in Luke. He only sees them once in a great while. Sometimes Danny tries to invite him to go out and eat with one of his new 'special' friends [and aren't all his friends, really], but Ward claims he has to work. 

On Saturdays. At 9pm.

In other news, Danny attacks his GED project with enthusiasm and cheer, which is unsurprising. It's a distraction for him, perhaps, he thinks, from his failed trip to Asia and the empty gate thing. [He saw a photo of it]. Ward is kind of pleased he's taken his advice. They work on it together, and he helps Danny often. He didn't learn much high school type stuff in the mountains, apparently. Ward doesn't ask. 

After Danny returned with Colleen [who he insists isn't his girlfriend, without Ward even implying it; he didn't really have the wherewithal to notice or care, to be honest] he was a little reticent about it, which is unlike him. Danny's a chatterer. He loves to ramble. 

Just like when he was a kid. Whatever he was trying to do or find didn't happen, and he's a little sulky at first about it; then he bounced back, like he always does. Eventually, he works with the Defenders [Danny calls them that, Ward makes no comment but thinks it sounds like the name of a band, and suddenly is seized by the fervent hope that he's not actually in a mental institution, drugged and imagining this nonsense, up to and including Danny in a band] all the time.

As a result, Ward eventually meets with the legal counsel Daredevil's recommended to Danny for the company--to keep them more on the straight and narrow, to review the proposals the board will look at, etc. To be ethical, basically. Hogarth, who this lawyer works for, backs up Daredevil's recommendation, and answers Ward's questions--like telling him Stahl will please [almost too well, most say] but people usually love to love her accomplice. It's the legal duo of Franklin Nelson, someone he's never met, and Marci Stahl, someone he has. 

Stahl is a shark, and fearless, so he expects the same of Nelson. Who else would she team up with but someone just as intense and cutthroat as herself?

Instead he's the Danny to her Ward. He's the good one. Nelson has a weird, long haircut, and a soft, gentle face. He seems impossibly boyish, but comforting, almost mothering, at the same time. [Stahl comes off more like an actual, live scorpion.] He radiates joy and sweetness. 

It's like looking at a reflection of the sun in a cloud on a day in May; Danny is similar, but he's more of a kung fu cartwheeling firecracker. 

Weeks pass, and he gets used to their visits. He hasn't been able to leave his apartment for a while now, but he's just been busy. It's easier to work from home. At first they both meet with him at the same time; then he requests that it just be him. Why waste Stahl's time? It's only logical. Right?

It is, he thinks to himself, going for a tone of conviction in his thoughts. All he wants to do is go over the contracts he's having Danny sign in depth. [While Danny hadn't cared if he and Joy ran things, he wants things under Danny's control after what happened. He isn't someone who steals things from a boy who's practically his brother, and one of his two family members. The rest never counted anyway].

To be honest, it's his anxiety, his paranoia coming out. Part of him notes it and doesn't care, the rest of him doesn't care about anything at all. He has Foggy meet with him at his apartment--it's new and heavily guarded. Ward feels like he can't get to the part where he feels safe. What will it take, he thinks, and wishes he could stop obsessing over security.

But he can't stop. Everything has to be checked and rechecked, examined and watched. Ward just wants to relax. He can barely sleep, not that he's not getting flashbacks during the day when he's awake. What irony. 

He looks forward to spending time with Joy, Danny and the lawyer. He's an odd one, so much like Danny that it's strange. It's like he's not looking for double meanings or the cruel intent in the edges of sentences, underneath words. He's just sweet.

Ward's checked, he's not getting anything special out of this, so why? Why does he act this way with him? It's a question that becomes a project. He asks Stahl on the phone about it, only to get her laughter. He analyzes it carefully: it's not pointed, weirdly. "That's just him," she says. "He's like that. I still can't believe he's real."

He can't tell if she's being sarcastic or not. Just like how he feels about Danny, he distantly notes. It's a distraction, his interest in the lawyer. 

He doesn't care. It feels nice, if that's the word, to add a third good thing to his life. He doesn't count his job as good, it's bad bordering on neutral sometimes, but he does like how it takes him out of himself, out of his mind. For whole minutes at a time he forgets what happened. He gets lost in the details. 

That's when he feels the best. Not happy, he imagines that would be a feeling he would notice. But it is a time where he doesn't feel so totally in pain, and full of fear.

Nelson can be the possible third thing, maybe, he decides tentatively. 

When he brings the latest batch of papers over, on a Tuesday afternoon, he has a big plastic bag with him instead of only his briefcase. That's new. 

It's rainbow ice cream in tubes, something he calls 'push pops', and a little bonsai plant with tiny little branches and green leaves, not spikes, oddly ["it's so cute" is the description he gets]. The tag says it's a Japanese neem tree; it tilts to the right a little, the big trunk [stem?] and all the soft, tiny little leaves. He leans in towards it despite himself. 

[the tree: http://i.imgur.com/gRX6GUq.jpg]

It looks as fragile as Ward feels. He can hardly bring himself to do his hair in the morning, and his suit of armor has always helped him feel stronger. 

It also looks out of place in his business/appointment or 'work' room [it has to be very formal and stark]. His apartment is pretty emptyish anyway, given that he chose to get rid of almost everything from his childhood and adult life. It felt dangerous, like it could poison him at any moment. He resoutely does not think about it, or about any family members, or about anything that happened in his life at all. 

He just leans forward at a slight angle, staring at the little tree. It's tiny leaves tremble in his apartment's air conditioning, so he gets up to grab his tablet and turn the fan down in this room. 

Ward thinks this little tree will be the only living thing in his apartment once the lawyer leaves. It's a space that he bought pre-furnished in the old style, dark damask wallpaper in soft dark tones and Louis XIV furniture; but that's where he actually lives. The 'public' rooms are cold, stark Scandinavian; just what you'd expect. No one sees the private rooms but him, Danny and Joy. He tries to feel safe in there, but it hasn't worked yet.

He read that changing your visual surroundings, even in terms of art and sightlines, can hugely affect the mind and mood. And that associating change and memory content with doorways is natural, so he'd hoped the distinction would make him feel some non not positive feeling. He's still hoping.

Today's appointment with the lawyer is only a drop off, there's nothing for him to immediately review with Nelson or sign, or discuss. 

To his shock, the lawyer pulls out a chair and sits down, looking at him with his sweet gregariousness. "I know I should put my jacket back on," he says, having taken it off to lay over his arm, "but I just can't. It's so nice and cold in here, I'm going to start shivering; I don't know how you do it. It's like my muscle memory of how it's a hundred degrees out won't go away!"

Ward feels at a loss. He sits down himself as well, and freezes up internally. More than he was already, he reflects.

Nelson opens the box of ice cream. "I just saw these, can you believe they're back? You have to have one, it seems like you're always working--take a break for a sec." He opens the box, ripping it open; but not harshly, just pulling it apart, not tearing the cardboard. 

He hands him one of the awkwardly shaped cylinders, it's cold in his hand as he accepts it out of sheer confusion. It doesn't even occur to him to say anything. He turns it over, and examines it in his hand.

Ward looks up suddenly, hearing the click of the door. He'd distantly heard Nelson's goodbye, he notes. The plant is still there on the table, to his surprise. "To liven the place up, it's so professional in this room. It'll be like a little piece of nature hidden in here." Ward can recall the words at once, now understanding that he had listened to them but had blocked them out for later consideration. 

Sometimes he only remembers things later. Talking to new people has been difficult. He's been making progress though; he ordered post-trauma workbooks online and does them in secret, when he's sure Danny's busy and Joy's working. 

He also orders adult coloring books and tries them [with colored pencils] but it turns out he can't take the tedium. He secretly gets some knitting stuff, and then embroidery; neither suits him. His search for a 'constructive hobby' that he can 'focus on in a positive and creative way' continues. Some of the books insist this is an essential part of the recovery process. 

Ward thinks the books' idea that recovery is even possible is a joke, but he'll take what he can get. He gets the fifth one in his latest set of purchases out and goes to work, but keeps finding himself staring at the little tree. It's little leaves are so delicate, and he's gripped by fear; his throat closes up. 

What if someone knocks it over by accident, or god forbid he does? And it got crushed, ruined. He bolts up from his chair and picks it up, cradling it. It goes in his bedroom by the window. 

Then he realizes he doesn't know if these plants need water or sun, and in what measure. He forgets about his latest post-trauma worksheets as he delves into what google brings up for 'how to care for bonsai'.


	2. Chapter 2

Ward isn't exactly sure how to connect with Danny after his return; now, he has a better idea. They work together, talk together--well, Danny talks most of the time, and he's content to listen, until he says something too silly or too stupid, and then he can't help himself, he's got to say something. They bicker back and forth, and Danny laughs.

Ward gets some books on Eastern philosophies, religions, and looks at them. He feels that's better than actually asking Danny about it; he doesn't want to upset him, especially now that he can't 'find' whereever it was again. He also reads old Asian poetry, [it's stupid to feel more connected to Danny because of it, but he doesn't care] like: akebonono murasakino tobariya harunokaze [by 与謝蕪村 ]. The book says it means:

Dawn  
It's violet drape --  
Spring breeze.

It has some type of quality he likes. He copies down the ones he likes in a little book; it's just filled with nonsense, little phrases or words he found he liked since he's been in the new apartment. It's really his only personal possession in there. Except for that bonsai. Then he gets to this piece:

静けさや

岩に滲み入る

蝉の声 

This pervasive silence Enhanced yet by cicadas simmering Into the Temple Rocks dissipating

Then he starts to feel like he gets it. It's both quiet and furious, still and in the death throes. 

He starts to try to write his own haiku. They're terrible, but his books assure him that a creative pursuit does not matter in terms of quality, just quantity. He likes the rules, how he has to find the right words to fit in, and yet convey the concept correctly. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> funabashino tsunademo tozuru koorikana  
> the floating bridge of boats Its mooring ropes frozen -- ice  
> [Buson]

Danny doesn't say anything about how he doesn't leave the apartment. Once in a while he asks him if he wants to go see a movie, go shopping for ties [he used to love that, he reflects unemotionally; Joy must have told him about it.] Danny also wants to go get candy he remembers from their childhood, so Ward finds it all online and has it delivered.

Danny is thrilled, and it distracts him for asking 'how' Ward is. He is not interested in discussing quite a long list of topics with either Danny or Joy [who isn't stupid enough to ask, though, let's give respect where it's due]: things like drugs, therapists, assault, family members, memories and the past. Basically anything in the past, it's a big category.

Ward starts watching ASMR videos, at first just because he can't handle listening to music sometimes. It's too much sound all at once, and he doesn't have the patience and calm he once did to listen to classical right now.

He's in the middle of a video with a Heather Char something when Danny swings by. With a question.

"So, you know Daredevil, right?" he asks. Before Ward can formulate an answer, he's rolled on. "He kind of asked me about your intentions with Foggy." 

"That makes no sense," Ward mutters, beginning to turn the question over in his head, almost unwillingly. 

He does spend a lot of time with Nelson. Over the first few months, he rarely saw him. Then he saw him every other week. Now, recently that is, he sees him every few days. 

Yeah, he may have looked over everything with such a fine toothed comb just to have justified reasons to call Hogath's firm, to request his presence. Nelson gave him his phone number two weeks ago, 'in case he had any questions he needed a quick answer to', but he hasn't used it. It seems too uncouth. Too rude, somehow. 

In person, it's more respectful. They eat lunch together now, at the meetings, and Ward insists he sit and try new things every time. That's been for three weeks. Ward's enjoyed it. He likes hearing his odd, yet sincere, reactions to things like sushi burritos flown in from the Mission in San Francisco [though he doesn't mention that] and poutine driven down from Montreal.

Actually, it's less like lunch and more like a weird afternoon snack. Ward doesn't care. He's too busy, and also too busy enjoying the novel sensation of someone treating him a normal person. Not a rich one, a business owner, or a traumatized one, someone crushed by the weight of all that's happened to him.

Joy knows everything, now, and it's affected her. She's more subdued, and treats him like he's made out of glass. 

Sometimes he appreciates it, sometimes it pisses him off; he can never tell which he'll feel. At least it's feeling something at all. Danny's too youthful to understand how worn down he is, he's too naive and too bubbly. Nelson acts like he's a regular person, someone who could be a friend. 

Ward is very grateful for it, the illusion he's someone who could just leave his apartment, go have fun, do something calmly. It's a very appealing illusion. Right now he's working on training himself not to compulsively check his security feeds constantly for [finally] non-existant threats. 

The danger is over, but Ward's mind can't seem to get the memo. He still can't relax, making him feel exhausted from the tension ever present under his skin. He isn't taking anything for it... he doesn't ever want to take anything again. Not after being drugged by force in that institution. 

Despite being off everything for over a year, and not taking medication of any kind, Ward sometimes feels like he's going in and out focus--no, that the world is going in and out of focus, when he's by himself usually. 

"Ward? Dude?" Danny says. Ward snaps back into the present. Danny is leaning over the couch, looking at him, concerned. "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah," he says, shaking his head with a shudder. "I'm fine."

"You faded out for a sec," Danny adds, though Ward is sure it was a few minutes. Ward meets his eyes, trying to convey he's okay now; for now. "It's fine now."

"Okay," he says, leaning back reluctantly. Danny hasn't pressed him on much, and Ward doesn't think he could emotionally take it if he did. "So Nelson, you know him right? The lawyer? What's up with you two?" he adds, a little sly. 

Ward stares at him blankly. Danny continues eating his fried chicken sandwich as though he said nothing out of the ordinary. "He's doing company work," he points out aimlessly. 

"Yeah, but isn't he over here all the time?" Danny asks, tearing open little packets of ketchup, and splattering one dangerously near the cream couch's arm. "Watch that," Ward says, wincing. Danny's still not a very neat eater.

"Yes, he brings the papers for work over," he continues, picking up his tea. Danny's very into it. Since he's been back, he keeps buying different kinds and making Ward try them as well, saying they're calming or centering, or whatever it is he says. They all taste terrible, to be frank.

It kind of blurs together in a new age haze to Ward, but to be fair, he hasn't really been trying to listen. He should, he thinks suddenly. Danny deserves it. He even took that picture of them as kids that Ward had tacked up on the wall in that room before. He has it in his room, Joy told him. He's crashing in a room in her apartment currently. 

He does that: he's basically a Buddhist-ish couch surfer. "So is he nice? What's he like? Joy's met him, I think," Danny prods, and Ward gets what this is about. 

He has no illusions, this is Daredevil and the Defenders not wanting their pure, innocent friend too tainted by being close to him. He has no problem with that, he doesn't want it either. He's not about to lecture Nelson on the reality of the world. On what's really out there, it's too evil and terrifying to describe anyway.

"How could I have designs on him," Ward interrupts, "he's simple. I'm like a watch whose parts were all hacked out with a knife; he's a little kid with a stuffed animal--and isn't he an Episcopalian?"

He's same as Stahl, he thinks. He read dossiers on them both before meeting with them. He has to know everything now, to feel more like he can do it. Ward doesn't think he and Murdock were a thing, really, they parted acrimoniously over their law firm. He and Stahl, though, that seems real. Nelson is probably with her.

She is very possessive with him, in a low key way. Like a leopard with a fellow, lower ranking leopard. 

Danny's staring at him, fork suspended, fries stabbed on it sticking out every way. Damn, he couldn't have gotten more on it, he thinks, almost amused. 

"He's okay," Ward allows, since clearly Danny is digging for an answer, or an opinion of some kind. They're usually hard for him to dredge up.

"I'd like him," he adds, to Danny's clear surprise. He always acts out his emotions; he's not good at hiding things. "Someday, some other me could want to be with him. He's like a lamp in a greenhouse. Obviously, I couldn't, I'd probably start screaming and pass out if he tried to hold my hand," he said, and gave a dead echo of a laugh.

"It'd be nice though," Ward decided, trying some tea. Today Danny has made tea that tastes like both dirty socks and plums. Interesting in its grossness. "I don't think he would be mean about it."

Danny puts down his sandwich. "Then try it," he says, gripping the edge of the couch. He hands are visibly greasy.

Ward sighs internally. The trials never end. "He's with his partner, Stahl," he explained. "Not that her absence would make me anything but some dark cloud. I can't hurt a person like that." 

"Whoa, man, that's not how things would be," Danny tries to argue, but he is done. "The subject is closed, dick," he says. 

Danny subsides. "Besides, I want to kick your ass in whatever stupid video game you've just discovered," Ward adds. That part's true. He kind of does want to. 

It's weirdly satisfying. 

He also wins half the time, because Danny is terrible at it, and accidentally breaks the controllers all the time. They've had to buy them in bulk.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiraume ni akuru yo bakari to nari ni keri  
> In the white plum blossoms night to next day just turning  
> [Basho]

Danny is bound possessed to celebrate some holiday he insists is not just mystical but earthbound as well. He calls it by many names including Vesākha and the Buddha's birthday. Ward is busy with work, so he kind of tunes his rambling about it out. Work has been his refuge, his safe place, to wit. 

Although sometimes he can't make himself go to sleep because it's too hard. He can't stop, and leave that safety. Sleep is so hard, anyway, and even if it works he has nightmares. They're so bad he can't bear to acknowledge they happened, so he tells himself deliberately what kind of dreams he had. He makes up ones that are nice.

Danny makes a little altar type thing in the blue room [Ward has a lot of similarly empty rooms, so he made up names to differentiate them]; it has small statues, foreign looking flowers, little oranges, Danny says things about Dhammapadas, and tiny candles that make Ward think of the fire code regulations for this building. 

To be fair, he did buy the building. It's just a safety measure, really. 

Danny orders in Asian food that's a little too authentic for Ward, but he doesn't say anything. He never knew there were that many types of vegetables, to be honest. He dutifully tries things with him and Joy, while making slight detours to the kitchen for a sip of ice water instead of tea.

He's been having trouble eating lately, well, for a long time. He can only keep down really bland, plain food. Kid food. He's been doing well with chicken fingers too. His lunches with Nelson and time spent with Danny result in the only actual food he's been working on trying, other than that he barely eats. He takes tiny bites, and drinks lots of water.

Well, in this case, tea unfortunately. He would kill for an espresso right now, but he knows the caffeine will only have a detrimental effect on his mental state and anxiety level. He's been reading up on everything relating to 'getting calm'. He's willing to do anything to get there.

Danny has them pour a tiny cup of water over one of the statues while he says something in another language. It smells sweet; Danny says it's the hydrangea in it.

There's new types of tea to try, of course. And he does like the white rice. It's very soothing, no surprises there. Trying to eat with chopsticks is fun, if only because then no one can expect him to get much down successfully. His hands aren't very steady as it is, in normal situations, anyway.

With Nelson he'd worried about potential comments of his three bites during the course of three hours, but the lawyer never says anything. It's kind of hard not to notice, since he actually eats the meal while Ward pokes at his own. He feels like he's relaxed a little about it, though, internally--Ward used to feel he couldn't stop thinking about how lame he must seem, to eat so oddly, but now he's more okay with it. Danny and Joy never say anything, so he relaxes. Doubly so when it seems Nelson will follow suit.

He tries the sweet porridge as Danny and Joy discuss the siblings' yearly trip to Paris. After it had just been them two in charge at the company, Joy had suggested they do it together. It had become a tradition. 

Ward had loved that it was the two of them, just going on a special trip together for no reason at all. It had been a nice reprieve. This time, he's dreading it. "Ward"?

He blinked, and looked up at Joy. "So what do you think? The board wants that contract personally examined and pushed through by one of us, but it's during the trip we already booked. I could take Danny and show him somewhere other than magic land, he's had no contact or experience with the real world,"--here Danny interrupts her. 

"Hey, I've been to China, I've been places," he protests. She gives him a look and continues. "If you stay here and handle the contract paperwork, we can reschedule our trip together for the future."

Ward inhales, and takes a closer look at her. She looks back. 

He gets the message. She doesn't think he can go, and she's right, damn it. She's always been so perceptive. It's nice of her to give him the out, and he appreciates it. He should do something to show how much, he thinks. 

"That's fine," he tells her, and inclines his head just a touch to show he understands. She sits back, looking pleased. 

He can't tell if Danny is aware of this, or part of the plan to help him. He's still defending himself. "I've been all around New York," he continues, "and that's as wordly as it gets. Every culture, everything!"

Ward feels like he would smile if he had enough energy to move his mouth like that. Danny and Joy are always funny together. The night passes, and it's enjoyable. 

What's not fun is his next visit with Nelson. Who rushes in, wanting him to go out to the food truck parked on the next street over, supposedly called Yumbii. 

Ward can't be sure if some of the people he knows aren't just making things up, at this point. They could just be jerking his chain, and he wouldn't blame them. 

"You want to go?" Nelson says, jacket already off when he came in. Ward suddenly wants a hug from him, but then thinks--who doesn't? If even he can see his effervescent, radiating goodness, other people must be all over him. 

"Yes," he says, too abrupt he realizes after the fact, and stands up jerkily. 

"Great," Nelson says, happy as usual, and turns to lead him out. Ward decides he has to do this. He can do this. Okay, maybe not, but he can try. He can't embarrass himself in front of the one non-family person he likes. He thinks of his coping cards [he thinks of their positive statements as almost incantations, or his version of psalms] with a singleminded focus, not even listening to Nelson as they get in the elevator. 

All he has to do is repeat them in his mind. By the time it dings at the bottom floor, and his security guards are opening the door for them [and trailing them, he hopes that will help alievate his utter panic... any time now would be great], Nelson has taken his hand and is dragging him down the street with enthusiasm. 'I am capable,' he thinks. 'I will be okay, I need to remember to breathe slowly.'

He practices breathing slowly once, then twice, and then repeats it again in his head. It's very hot outside, it being summer and all, but Ward stays buttoned up in his suit. He's actually sweating through it, but that started when they got in the elevator, not because of the temperature. 

Thankfully Nelson doesn't say anything about how grossly sweaty his hand is where he's holding it. It's like wet, which is disgusting, Ward thinks. 

"We need a sesame fries, make it two, and some tacos. And the special nachos. And two special menu drinks." Nelson pays for it, something that strikes Ward as odd. Which one of them is the millionaire here?

He opens his mouth to protest this, not that he's not almost pleased [it's a novel sensation, along with the idea that someone would care enough to give him that courtesy even though he clearly doesn't need it], but Nelson's handing him a bag and cup to carry. 

"I can pay, Mr. Nelson," Ward says, finally finding his voice. He wants to show some sign of appreciation, some friendly gesture. Especially to Nelson, who is literally his only friend. [The other two count as family, not friends]. 

"Listen, you have to call me Foggy," the man in question says, now dragging him back to his apartment. For some reason, Ward almost wants to linger outside. He hasn't been out in the natural air, on the street for a long time now. He surveys the street with something akin to interest as it rushes past him. 

"No one calls me that," he continues, laughing, but in a kind way. "I'm Foggy or nothing, okay?" 

He turns and looks at Ward as they go back through the main doors towards his private elevator. Ward looks back. For the first time he notices Nelson's contemplative look, the kindness in his expression towards him. He feels kind of warm and awkward, but it's a feeling that's addictive, kind of. He likes it, but it's uncomfortable in some way, new. 

Ward nods at him a little, hedging. "Okay. I'll do Franklin, as a compromise, but I won't promise anything." He smiles at that. "But why, why are you doing this?" he questions, hating how his voice gets weaker at the end. He's got to practice more in the mirror, he decides. 

"You don't know why?" Foggy says, surprised. He had brought his drink up to sip from, but pauses at this. His red hair gleams softly in the light of the elevator ceiling, and Ward looks at it instead of his face. It seems safer. 

"You seem like such a nice, conscientious person, you almost make me think you're the alternate universe verison of Marci if she were gender-flipped, but more into being good," he explained, probably because Ward had kept silent. "But you're your own person. You say so much with your expressions. And you know Danny, and his special friends, and I do too, but you're like me. One of the normal ones. Danny said you were practically his brother."

Foggy shrugged. "I just like hanging out with you, and you're always so sweet."

Ward stares at him. What? At least it's positive, one part of his mind tells him. "I liked the tree," he says finally, turning to look at the elevator door instead. It dings open, the traitor. Though at least he can feel more free and less claustrophobic. Actually, he'd forgotten to feel freaked out by being in such a confined space, this time. Weird.

They set the food down on the table, and for this moment, Ward feels a strange hope-like sensation. The food is just as odd as he expected, but it's fun to try. The drink turns out to be a mix of several soft drinks in one cup, something Foggy thinks is novel. Ward wishes he could muster up that level of involvement with the world and its things. 

Mercifully, Foggy doesn't comment on his non sequitor about the bonsai tree, or about his evaluation of him. Even after he leaves, Ward can't get it out of his head that someone good called him both 'nice' and 'sweet', and hinted he was 'good'. 

It's great, amazing even, but it also rocks his world on its axis. He needs some time to think about it. At least Foggy is moving at the speed of molasses; Danny must have told him some edited version of what happened, he thinks. Or at least that he was messed up mentally. 

It clicks. Foggy must have known he was fucked up beyond measure when he first met him. He doesn't feel betrayed, but he still calls Danny's cell and asks him. "No man," Danny assures him, "I didn't say anything, I just told him you had gone through a rough experience when he asked me if you were single a few months or something after he started working with you."

Ward takes the phone away from his ear and stares at it. Foggy had asked him that? Specifically?

"Wait," Danny says in a rush, "that one dealer just showed up, gotta go bye see you tonight if this ends fast!"

Ward shakes his head to the dial tone. Typical Danny. Almost annoying, but weirdly reassuring at the same time. This could be a good day, he thinks, and starts to watch the clock to see if it'll happen.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this something is called a wind-swept spirit for lack of a better name [Basho]

Adjusting has been hard, in Foggy's opinion. He spends all his time at work, just to take his mind off of the no longer extant law firm he used to belong to. 

Even Marci is surprised at his get up and go. Hogarth swings by his office, but he's too tired and busy keeping his head in the sand [if he never looks up from work, he'll never get upset at what happened with Matt, right?] to be afraid of her. 

She seems surprised, and gives him some faint praise. It's too late for Foggy; he doesn't care if someone recognizes his acumen and diligence. He's done. The world rolled him and he's going to stay in this little bubble if it kills him. 

The only person it's safe to be friends with is Marci, if only because she doesn't care enough about 'feelings' to lie to people. And maybe Jessica Jones, who he meets at work. She's a hard drinker, Marci says, and she looks so sad sometimes, so he offers to go drinking with her. 

She perks up immediately. Marci accompanies them [she invited herself, don't you know] as the designated driver, but since they usually take taxis, she's actually the chaperone. Neither Foggy or Jessica comment on it; he doesn't care, and apparently Jones doesn't either. 

They drink happily together, and wake up in excruciating pain the next morning [it's a Saturday] on the floor of Marci's fancy apartment. Truer friends were never made but in drink, he thinks. It's something Jones apparently thinks as well, since they meet up every other week for a binge drinking session. It takes months for Foggy to find he needs it less and less to drown out his anger about what happened with his firm. 

His friend. 

Eventually, as the months pass, Hogarth gives him incrementally higher and higher cases, and pairs him with Jessica often [for street work/investigative assistance], which is great. She seems to enjoy his utter lack of fear regarding her. He is done being afraid forever. No one is worth it. "It's cause you'd get your lunch money stolen if you came out with me," Jones teases him, looking happy for the first time in months. 

Things must be looking up for her finally, he thinks. 

Then he gets the Rand Industries situation. Hogarth has him come into her office and stay awhile. She explains a lot of things, including how Danny is a personal friend, and how she's concerned about the Meachum siblings. 

"All three of them are off their rockers," she says frankly. "If they come off as needing my assistance... by which I mean having a crisis, call me immediately. They've been having problems, and I'm not sure if they can do this on their own."

He nods. 

Foggy meets Danny a few times, [and Jones tells him all about him], first at Hogarth's and then sometimes because he crashes at his apartment once in a while doing things he knows nothing about, if questioned. He doesn't mind, because Danny shows up and is honest. He tells him what's going on and why he's there. 

He introduces him to the must see tv of the last decade when he comes by unexpectedly. They watch ER, The X Files, Twin Peaks and beyond. At work, he starts on the Rand paperwork, and sometimes he's asked to visit the Meachum siblings. 

They summon him to Ward Meachum's apartment, which is heavily guarded. Everything is searched: him, his coat, his briefcase, him again. They're taking no chances. There's fingerprint scans everywhere, they have to triple check his ID and call to confirm he can come up. Everyone is armed. 

Two security guards escort him to a secret, hidden private elevator and ride up with him. They look like Mossad; hey, Foggy's seen a lot of tv shows, okay? They could have stepped out of an action show. The apartment is ice cold, with loud fans providing an odd white noise in the background. 

There's nothing in the rooms that he can see. It's all metal and white stuff, very creepy and lifeless; what is this, the dystopian future? 

He can see what Hogarth meant; they look rough. Both too thin, dull eyes, lifeless faces. The guy looks like someone took an iron pipe and beat him with it. Foggy's not entirely sure he can get up from the chair he's in on his own. 

The girl edges on hyperactive, and talks too fast. Her name, Joy, does not suit her in this instance. When he talks to them, they hesitate before they answer, like they're waiting for him to continue. They stare at him, but not like they're judging him or sneering--like they're afraid. Why would they be so anxious about him? 

It's weird. 

Eventually they get used to him, and unwind about half a millimeter, which is to say, not at all. The girl acts like all she drinks are espressos. Sometimes the guy just stares into space, in his own little world. It's not daydreaming, though; he doesn't seem happy or contemplative. He's always tense, and the one time Foggy sets his briefcase in the chair too quickly and it clonks against it, he almost jumps up out of his seat. 

Ward always seems like there's a sheen of sadness laid on top of him like a transparent blanket, his face is never relaxed. He clenches his hands seemingly involuntarily all the time. 

Foggy's never felt so bad for someone, for both of them. They seem to be suffering, and he doesn't see them improve over time.

And yet, weeks later he feels like he can't call Hogarth just yet. Marci agrees when they discuss it. Even though they have their own apartments, she spends a lot of time at his. He rarely goes home, though. It feels much better to bury himself in work. Work's never hurt him or made him regret his life choices. 

He coordinates with Jessica a lot, and appreciates how she likes to talk shit about all the clients of the firm, the people in charge, the lawyers, and the assistants. She's equal opportunity rude, but funny at the same time.

He also appreciates how she subtly hints she knows Matt, and will text him to say that 'they're all fine'. The only thing he doesn't get about her is her endless discussions of Luke when they're drunk. She literally talks about him for a solid hour at a time. Foggy just hmms and says "I see" when appropriate. 

Joy's too busy to go to their meetings anymore, it seems, so Foggy just spends time with Ward. The man's got an eye for detail. If he didn't know better, and he's not sure he does, he'd say all Ward does is read thousands of pages of business details. It's like he's doing Foggy's job, the fact checker's job and his own, for some reason. 

Foggy's pretty superfluous in this case. And yet, Ward never acts like he cares that Foggy only ends up pointing out things he's already noted down. He seems to prepare for their meetings, in that sense. He gets the impression of tremendous effort on his part, just to stay focused, so he tries to talk slower than usual to help him out. 

Visually, he's extremely anxious when they meet, but despite it keeps asking him to come over. 

[His hands shake, his gaze darts around sometimes, he takes deliberately deep breaths for long periods of time once in a while, he clutches a pen like it's a lifeline, and he barely can look at him, but when he does, it's with gratitude.

Foggy introduced himself with his nickname; Ward only calls him Mr. Nelson. When he arrives, Ward always asks him what'd he'd like as a drink; it's like it's important to him for some reason. He acts like he wants him to be comfortable, and always asks his opinion; as if he weren't the one in charge. It's quite strange. 

Foggy's dealt with millionaire clients before, but none of them have acted like this. None seemed desperate to just want to talk with someone aimlessly, to be respectful. Ward's almost overly polite to him, but he doesn't usually look him in the eye. He shies away. 

When he does look at him, it seems like he's not aware of it. Or he thinks he doesn't notice. It's with this soft longing; if he weren't so sick or whatever is wrong with him, he looks like he'd kiss him, to be honest. 

Foggy likes it, but not the sick part. He makes little comments to Danny and Hogarth to see what he can get; they hint at some pretty wild stuff. Marci is more concretely helpful: she details Ward's horrible life. [She and Jones are tight; both sarcastic enough to kill a plant through osmosis alone]. It's like the saddest story in the first, one percent-ing world, Foggy thinks. 

Ward seems to fixate on the drinks; someone must have told him how Foggy loves getting pass out drunk with Jessica. He hasn't felt the need to in a little bit, really, and he doesn't want to be that guy with Ward. Also, Ward never drinks anything strong himself, making the whole thing strange. 

To be honest, Foggy's more of a bottom shelf guy. The stuff Ward has looks beyond expensive. When he drinks, he wants to either forget or enjoy himself; both mean quantity over quality. So he jokes, one the first times Ward gets all serious when he asks [caring way too much about it, as if Foggy's going to chide him if he doesn't act like this, which is odd and somehow sad], and says, "I'd kill for a chocolate milk, the heat today is terrible."

Of course the room is like Siberia, but since he just got in he's still hot. He expects Ward will react to his choice, but he does nothing. "Maria, make up a cold 'chocolate milk', please," is all he says, talking into what seems to be an intercom. You can literally hear the quote marks. 

Has he never had one as a kid, Foggy thinks? How is that something that deserves quotes.

Maria is the maid. She brings in an ice cold glass of chocolate milk that's apparently been handmade [you can tell by how it smells, and how it looks; yes, Foggy considers himself a connoisseur] on a tray made of what looks like marble with gold handles. These people do not do casual, he thinks. 

There's no straw for the milk, confirming Foggy's conjecture that Ward did not have a normal childhood. You have to have a straw, everyone knows that.

Ward, in contrast, always gets a little cup of tea, but he makes a moue of distaste when he sips it, every time. Foggy does not understand why he'd specifically order something he doesn't like, but doesn't say anything. 

The sterile, horrible office eventually gets to him, so a few weeks later he brings Ward some little knickknacks. 

The bonsai seems to offend him--maybe he's a germaphobe, Foggy suddenly thinks. He practically slaps his forehead as he gets into the elevator to leave. And accepted the ice cream like he'd never seen one before. 

And here Jones said Danny was the one who hadn't lived in the real world, he thinks, bemused, walking out of the downstairs lobby. The guards are much nicer to him now; probably because he comes all the time. They seem very solicitous and are clearly trying to be friendly, which is weird, because they're armed to the literal teeth.

That night, when he gets home, Danny's already there, eating his Lucky Charms. Only he would show up at his employee's apartment, instead of meeting with him at his own. Or at the, you know, downtown building with his name on it. "You gotta get more," is all Foggy says, shaking his head as he puts his briefcase down. Every time, he eats his cereal. Every time!

"Finally," Danny exclaims. "Are you ever home? Half the time I stop by you're not here! How's the contract files stuff going? And why don't you have any coconut milk?"

"I have an office," Foggy points out, though Danny never likes to go there if he can stop by his stoop informally instead. "And you can bring your own gluten free milk." 

"I don't wanna have to find a tie," Danny says, dismissing the idea. Foggy was unaware he even knew that was a typical reality of being in a law firm, what irony. "How's Ward? Hogarth said he's harassing you to come over all the time. Way more than is needed."

Foggy stops in surprise. Yes, he's gone over there a lot, but it was more because that's what big time people do, right? They just want attention, they want constant service. He didn't realize this was out of the norm.

"You guys don't usually do that?" he asks, interested. 

Danny rolls his eyes. "Of course not, even I know that's too demanding. You could just have a messenger deliver the files anyway, we have certified people do that all the time. He's asking for you, though--did he say anything?"

Foggy considers it. No, he hasn't really said anything in particular. They've just discussed the work, and then he'll say something about a recent baseball game [that no surprise, Ward hasn't seen, but he gamely tries to respond], then before Foggy goes he comments on his tie [they're always unique ones; that always makes him perk up a little], and then he leaves. 

Actually, he's been asking him questions lately, just little personal things about his interests. Ward wants to know what he reads, which isn't much when it's not work. Foggy tells him he needs recommendations all the time, so he often details out what he should try. It's always a variety of genres, and types; even poetry, too. 

Foggy said he liked everything, knowing that would end up in him detailing what his own personal favorites are. He can talk about different books for a long time, at the end of their work meetings. He's stilted, and drifts off when he talks, but Foggy just waits for him to come back. Sometimes he changes the subject like he doesn't remember what he just said, but it's more like he has trouble concentrating than anything else. 

Foggy is one thousand percent sure that he's getting almost zero sleep. He looks constantly exhausted. He clearly needs a yoga rub down [when the people walk their feet on your back] and a hot bath, and a year off. Ward probably wouldn't take that bargain, he thinks. He seems like a workaholic. He's the most calm [that Foggy's ever seen him, at least] when they're talking about work details.

"Hogarth asked him if he wanted a different lawyer or something, because people don't usually call for them so much, but he said he'd only work with you," Danny says, looking at him. For what, Foggy doesn't know. "What do you think about Ward? He's my brother, I want to look out for him. He... he doesn't make friends easily. Or spend time with people... often, let's say," he finishes, wry. 

Wow, Foggy thinks. Is he the only one who notices Ward, that's not family? He must have some friends. That must be why he seems so touched, almost fragile, when he comments on his latest tie. He has an extensive collection; he hasn't worn the same one since they've met. When Foggy mentioned it, he looked like he'd just given him the moon. 

Has anybody even been baseline level nice to this guy? Foggy feels like the answer is definitely no. That's unacceptable. 

"I know Ward's not a typical guy," Danny continues, waving his spoon around. He looks hesitant, almost uncomfortable. "He might have hard time expressing himself, he's kind of intense," he looks away, apparently ready to roll off a list of his friend's worst qualities. 

Foggy's kind of offended on his behalf. Ward is clearly trying his best. If he looked that sickly, thin and anxious, he'd need a hospital bed, not a set of contracts to review from the board. Whatever he's been through, he's clearly made of strong stuff to survive. 

"He's very talkative," he cuts in, to Danny's surprise. "In a way. You have to get the right topic. And he says more with his expressions than he does with words sometimes. You should tell him to get a massage and a glitter bath bomb. It would do him a world of good, trust me. He's so tense half the time, I almost go around the table and do his shoulders. He's a sweetheart, he needs to relax more, have fun."

"I should take him to a Mets game," Foggy finished, contemplative. With that, he walked off into his bedroom, getting ready for bed, not noticing how Danny's speculative look from couch followed him. "Hmm," he said, and hit the 'off' button on his phone. He'd had Joy on the line, to listen to Nelson's assessment. 

Joy and Danny had been keeping some serious tabs on Ward, including his new friend. He'd taken an interest in Foggy for some reason, and Joy was continuously concerned that it would only lead to Ward becoming more upset. 

She wanted to slowly pry him off Foggy, but Danny had a good feeling about it; the eavesdropping had been their compromise. He knew he'd been right, and that this would satisfy Joy. She had acknowledged Nelson was beyond a good influence previously, but was forever concerned--at least he seemed to treat Ward very well, Danny thought. 

Only Foggy would think he could casually get Ward to go to a baseball game. He couldn't wait to see whether he'd get him the tickets for the normal seats; and he hoped Ward would feel up to going. He had become almost incapable of leaving his apartment for some time now. 

Both he and Joy agreed that they needed to let him move at his own pace, and keep quiet. It seemed to have worked, given the near miracle of Ward's little walkabout with Foggy. Sure, it was only for a few minutes, but both he and Joy and review the security cameras' footage more than once.

He'd seemed to progress past being nervous into enjoying it, and by the end had seemed content to people watch and look at the streets of New York. Foggy had achieved what they could not. He also had the rare quality of either forgetting or ignoring how rich Ward was. 

Joy had, at first, scrutinized everything he did for signs he wanted Ward for money, but even she now supported him in general. He was the type of person Ward deserved, someone who was nice to him without using him for something. 

Joy even watched all the footage of their work meetings; something Danny felt was okay given Ward's near obsessive surveillance on both of them. It made both Meachums feel better, and to be honest, he liked that they were all looking out for each other too. 

He couldn't wait to see Ward have his first 'normal' baseball experience, with nachos, jeans, and security guards in tow. Danny was sure Foggy wouldn't brook going to a box or doing something over the top. He didn't seem like that kind of person. He liked the simple pleasures of life, like Danny himself.

He grabbed the box of Lucky Charms on the way out. "Really Danny?" Joy said dryly, as the call connected. She must have seen him holding his cereal box on one of the cameras. He headed down the street uptown to where her apartment was. He was still sleeping in one of her guest rooms. 

"I'm starving," he defended. "Besides, you have like no cereal at all at your place. I keep putting it on the shopping list for Ana, she must have forgotten."

"More like I took it off," Joy corrected. "Don't blame her for your stupid choices. I refuse to keep that in my home. .... I like what I heard before. What did you think?" she added, in a more serious tone. 

"I liked it too. I think this is good," Danny said. "He's seemed so much better lately. I mean, he voluntarily went outside. And he still won't with me. And I have my--stuff! You know!"

"I know," Joy agreed. Danny had finally stopped publicly calling himself the Iron Fist, much to everyone's relief. They had both [mistakenly, it turned out] assumed that Ward would feel safe going out with Danny, since he was literally super powered, but no, he wasn't interested. 

He hadn't seemed interested in life at all for a while there. This lawyer boy had gotten that back on track; that was all Joy cared about. Nelson could have whatever he wanted in exchange for that.


	6. Chapter 6

Technically, some of his books suggest that you should imagine a happy dream for the future or image concept as you fall asleep. Since sleep is incredibly difficult for Ward, he decides to work on it. 

Except that he doesn't have much of a dream. Unless by dream you mean peacefulness in general, and nothing bad happening. And being alone, and safe. 

And Danny and Joy being safe too. 

Other things have been improving, like his appetite [in a tiny way, he kind of crashed when everything was over and lost a lot of weight]. 

He also started some more advanced therapy workbooks, and he thinks they've been helping. He no longer spaces out as much, and feels more 'present' when he talks to other people. 

That's the plus side. The minus side includes that he hasn't left his apartment since the last lawyer excursion. 

He's regained enough wherewithal to realize he needs to take a more active interest in Danny and Joy's lives. That's when he gets a phone call from Marci Stahl. "Mr. Meachum," she drawls, and he sits up straighter. 

They haven't really had a reckoning, have they? Over Franklin. Jones and Danny have told him that she's his only close friend, that they spend a lot of time together. This isn't the shovel talk; it's the back up off my man talk. 

He grips the phone tighter in his hand. He is not prepared to give him up. By god, last week he wore a sweater and khakis [khakis!!] to some sporting event with him. His security guards had to wear hastily borrowed basketball team fan attire. Foggy already had a Celtics hat and windbreaker, of course. 

".... Yes?" he says, finally. Ward suddenly realizes he isn't sure how long it's been before his answer, and hastily constructs a mental excuse about focusing on work in case he needs it. 

But Stahl doesn't seem to mind that. "I called because I want to give you my approval with Foggy. I like your gumption. I also like that I hear you treat Foggy the right way. And obviously I like that you're rich and influential. He deserves someone epic. Be good to him, or I'll take him back."

Ward raises his eyebrows unconsciously. "If I didn't treat him well, I wouldn't want him to be near me. I mean, I'm having other people monitor my behavior in general, so if something came up, they'd red flag it immediately and tell me and my sister. There's no way I'd lose it and Joy wouldn't be on top of it immediately. But regardless, I've been doing very well recently. I'm not taking anything, and haven't been for over a year now."

There's just silence on the other line. Ward feels like he has to defend himself. This is, after all, Foggy's version of Joy, he supposes. Just a more intimate verison. "I'm aware of how Franklin is special; I want him to feel appreciated. It's... difficult; I tried to tell him I could buy him a piece he liked when we went to the museum yesterday, but he seemed offended. I must have misread something about the moment," he trails off, quietly, lost in thought.

What had gone wrong? Franklin had indeed been displeased by his [internally] fervent wish to get him a little painting he liked. And all he had done was hint at it. It had just been an idea, he thought, a little down. It would have only been a hundred thousand or less; pocket change. 

And now that they're handling the company well, [he is devoting all his energy to it, and it's working], all of them are almost billionaires.

"It's not you," Marci says suddenly, startling Ward. "He doesn't like it when people throw money around. He's... had experience with people trying to buy him, his... feelings. It probably just reminded him of that."

"Oh," Ward says, and considers it. His money has never been a problem before. It seems almost laughable, but just his luck. Of course.

"What kind of music do you like, anyway?" Stahl asks, then hmms almost rhetorically. "Brush up on your '90s. Good luck."

He hears the dial tone and incredulously pulls the phone away from his ear. What?? Whatever. You never know with Stahl. 

Her inner nature reasserts itself when you least expect it [ie reminding him of a tiny crocodile], just like how Danny will randomly forget he can't put metal in the microwave and they have to get a new one. Again.

Sometimes he thinks Maria the housekeeper [who's also his ensuite bodyguard] is going to smack Danny on the wrist for how messy he is in the kitchen. Franklin always talks to her, thanking her for bringing him something normal, like iced tea or whatever. It always catches him off guard, how Foggy talks to the servants like they're not maids but random friends of Ward's.

It makes him notice them more. Sometimes he asks them what they think he should order in for their next meeting; Maria always has good ideas. She used to be a Green Beret, so she notices everything, up to and including what she thinks Franklin likes the most based on his micro-expressions.

Sometimes good help is totally worth how hard it is to find.


	7. Chapter 7

He's never used the phone number Nelson gave him [in the course of work; anyway it would be rude to use it to make him come over directly, since he technically is supposed to 'answer' to him, so he always calls Hogarth's firm when he wants him], but finally does one day when he wakes up from a screaming nightmare, in which he's somehow imagined Foggy's death [usually it's just Joy, or him; his subconscious apparently knows that Danny can handle himself just fine]. 

He calls Franklin immediately, not realizing it's 4 a.m.

"What's wrong," Nelson murmurs in a still asleep voice. "What happen'?"

Ward listens to him, and it hits him that Franklin is fine. It was a dream. Why do things always go from terrifying to somehow embarassing in his life? I mean really, what the--

"Hey, can you hear me?" Foggy says, much more awake. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," he whispers, unwittingly, and clears his throat. "Yes."

Ward doesn't know what to say next. It seems too intimate a thing to admit, as if he has designs on him. I mean, he didn't ask to be featured in his dream or to have Ward lose his shit over his supposed death. How can he tell him any of those things without sounding distastefully 'come on-ish'? 

It's too stalkery, in the metaphorical sense. "Did you have a rough night?" Foggy asks, interrupting his circles of thought.

He nods, before forcing himself to speak. "I just woke up and didn't realize I'd called until it rang through," he says. That sounds good, he thinks, self-congratulatory.

"Okay," Foggy says, but his tone tells Ward that he knows what probably went down. "Do you want to watch tv together on the phone until you fall asleep again?"

Ward likes the idea, especially since it takes the pressure off him to talk, explain himself, or otherwise act like an adult in any way. Amazingly, he falls asleep with the phone beside him on the bed. 

He wakes up much later than usual, and it feels so good that he doesn't even mind Joy bursting into his bedroom to check on him. Despite his servants obviously being able to do so for her. It's hard for all of them to trust anything, anymore. 

Foggy comes over the next day, after calling and asking if he's free [he'll make himself free, he thinks] and something happens.

Franklin accidentally knocks into Maria, and sends her tray crashing to the floor. "Oh, I'm so sorry," he tells her, and kneels to pick the pieces up. He glances up at Ward and opens his mouth to say something. He looks surprised at whatever his expression is; Ward doesn't know what his own face looks like most of the time, to be honest.

Ward bolts out of the room. He locks himself in his bedroom, gets under the duvet and tries to calm down. The crash had been such a jolt, so loud and everything broke; he feels like he just got electrocuted. 

Out of the corner of his eye he can see the little arms of the bonsai. My little plant, he thinks irrationally, stay there, don't go. Don't fall off the table. 

Something knocks on the door, and he jerks, glancing over at it. "It's just me," Franklin says from beyond it. It's a very heavy, fortified door, so he's kind of muffed and quiet sounding. "Should I talk to you from here, or do you want to relax after that shock by yourself? I can go to work, so it'll just be you here."

He looks back at the bonsai. Ward gets up and unlocks the door. "Hey," he makes himself say. He sounds out of breath.

"Sorry I made such a mess," Foggy says, and puts his hand out, gesturing at him. He refrains from saying anything about how ridiculous Ward is acting, and how pathetic it is. So much for their nice afternoon together; he's botched it. How could anyone overlook such childishness? 

He also doesn't take his arm or anything. Ward is so pleased he didn't; he's got to get himself together first. He'd come apart and weep or something if Franklin touched him out of pity.

"Let me come back tomorrow, okay?" 

Ward nods, saying, "It's no problem, it's fine," as Franklin walks to the elevator and leaves. He watches the doors slide closed. 

He stands there for so long that he finally jolts when he notices Maria walk by. She gives him a 'I feel sorry for you, you're what they call a loser' look. 

He kind of deserves it, he thinks. Why does he have to ruin everything?


	8. Chapter 8

Wait, he thinks, when has Franklin known someone as rich as him anyway? His phone conversation with Marci floats to the forefront of his mind. He hasn't summoned Foggy in days, this must be his mind punishing him for it, he thinks bitterly. That isn't to say he doesn't think of him when he's not working, though. 

Wealth didn't come up in the dossier on him, and that had both his elementary school report cards and childhood photos. [Spoilers: he was very cute and darling].

He looks into him again, with Jones' help. And finally finds what he missed--what Marci must be talking about. Franklin wasn't a Nelson at all, actually, but an adoptee. A Sharpe.

He has no contact with his actual mother, it seems. He's got the right idea, Ward thinks passionately. The woman's like a more [an actual] evil version of Marci. At least she really cares for Franklin.

Foggy gave him a little gift set of different teas the last time he visited, to his disappointment [tea is disgusting in general], but when he tries them out of duty, he finds that they're all very sweet and nice.

The ingredient list of one reveals that that's because it's not even tea at all [despite what the label claims]. Ward's tastes didn't change; he's basically drinking fruit soaked water. It tastes great, though.

Maybe he can get Danny into drinking this, he thinks, and smiles to himself.

At least Franklin thought of him, because he's noticed that his clothes seem very well chosen for someone so uninterested in fashion. That leads to the natural conclusion--is Stahl picking them out for him? Because they sure as hell have said nothing that would mean there was a problem with that.

They're both not [so far declared] 'exclusive', and they don't do anything that's out of the realm of friendliness. Ward hates it. He both wants Foggy to make out with him and just somehow magically be 'his' special person without having to do anything to make it happen.

He's not sure what will happen if he even tried to do something like kiss him, even on the cheek. In terms of how he'd react, not to mention how Franklin would. God forbid he be shocked while handing him a 'no homo'. Ward feels like that would literally kill him, no joke. 

He does more recon on the situation, with Jones first. Stahl seems out of the question. Before he felt her tacit 'approval' of him was more in terms of even hanging out with Foggy; now he can't decide if she also meant he could date him with her blessing. Sometimes he thinks she meant it one way; then the next day he changes his mind. 

Ward can't help but mentally list the ways in which Stahl is a much better companion for him. She may be sly, but he's literal garbage. And unfortunately for him, he doesn't get to impress Foggy with money at any point, he finds out. Because Foggy already has a trust fund, set up for him by his estranged mother. 

He just doesn't use it, usually. It's enormous. 

Stahl too has repulsive parents, who are richer than god. Ward may be somebody, but he's not very special compared to this. Foggy must be already accustomed to the finer things, and Stahl must dote on him. It makes sense that she's choosing his clothes, since the last time he commented on his Zegna suit Foggy didn't seem to get it at first. Like he didn't even know what he was wearing--and it had been hand tailored, Ward could tell. 

So even his money means nothing, he thinks, staring at the wall. He has nothing.

Before he had clung to the excuse of work to see Foggy as a way to feel normal, to practice interacting with others in an acceptable way--Danny and Joy were the people he could be himself around [his pretty crazy, heavily traumatized self, that is]. He feels like he's beginning to recover, though, to get better in some way. However minute his progess is, he can feel he's made some.

He almost wants to go backward, to not notice Danny's concerned looks, and Joy's loving scrutiny. It was more fun to drift in a dark mist of not noticing quite a bit, apparently. 

And isn't it always Foggy who invites him places? Sure, so does Danny, and Joy, and even Jones for some reason, but why he hasn't he reciprocated? He must be giving him a terrible impression, he thinks, clutching his teacup.

This is just too hard. He can't even come up with something to do. He gives up, calls Jones and accepts her immediate suggestion that they go drinking [she says she'll get Franklin to come, thankfully]. 

Well, the two of them can drink; Ward's going to have to focus on keeping plain water, much less tea, down if they're out in public. He hasn't been practicing being out there too much.


	9. Chapter 9

Foggy and Jones are people with more stamina than him, he thinks, as he wakes up on the floor of Marci Stahl's apartment. It's actually kind of comfortable, since he's half on top of Franklin. For some reason, Jones is in the bathtub.

His favorite bodyguard, Maria, is sitting there reading a glossy magazine when he wakes up, but she looks a little shell shocked. He knows the feeling. She's got the latest issue of Architectural Digest. He likes to have them out and open in his 'office' work room at home, so that he and Franklin can easily discuss them. 

Foggy has pretty hilarious comments about fancy homes. And apartments, like the one they're in now, actually. Marci has a rather eclectic, very expensive place. Ward may have been exhausted, wracked with anxiousness and excited too, but he immediately catalogued all the security she has at her place. It's adequate, but he'd like more. 

He was the only one who didn't drink, and it was still a trip. At one point they were in a private botanical garden that was somehow also serving drinks [Marci loves rum], they went swimming for some reason in one of Foggy's client's pool [who kept flirting with him, but people do that, Foggy is very appealing, he can't begrudge them it], and after that it seemed like they were in the Ghost in the Shell sunken bar [the black walls and golden outerlay are so intricate and beautiful he decides to ask about either their interior designer or their antiquities collector].

Jones tries the sake for them, the other two stick to tempura. Ward tries a little, it's good, he thinks, from the little bites he has. 

They started off with tequila, moved onto girly drinks, took a pause in hard drinks, and circled back to tequila. There's also a lot of karaoke, without musical accompaniment.

It's priceless.

Ward gets to see the group in what appears to be their natural habit: partying with a side of binge drinking in the case of Jessica. The three of them drink cheerfully, while Marci and Foggy eat vegetable egg rolls in the garden, and then try to get more mochi in the sunken bar ones, but Jessica has eaten all the mochi from the big plate that came to the table at the end. 

Jones is more of a hard drinker. The other two like Sangria, that type of thing.

Foggy asks if each place has any tea, and it takes Ward a minute the first time before he realizes that that's for him. He's getting it for him. He drinks it out of loyalty; it tastes bland and vaguely gross instead of the in your face gross of Danny's usual picks. 

He feels almost special; it's a nice feeling. 

It's kind of a trip to watch the three of them in varying states of drunkenness, and how funny is it that Marci just invited herself along? He wonders at first if she's there to police his behavior but she's not. 

She and Franklin act like him and Joy. They just fit together, like puzzle pieces. They're familial instead of doey eyed. He gets his nerve up and puts his feet in the water when the others go swimming. 

Foggy has done so many nice things [probably pro bono work, Ward assumes] for so many random people in New York that they could probably go from place to place forever, he thinks. The current one, with the swimming pool, is the Turkish mother of one of Foggy's clients. Ward never hears the whole story, just about how 'excellent' his friend is.

He can't disagree. They all drink mint tea there.

Marci's driver takes them around all night. Nicely, no one comments on his bodyguard, even though he's provided no explanation. He gets to see them in all stages of drunkenness, and they're all interesting. Jessica focuses on Luke during almost every stage, before detouring into something about knitting for quite some time. He nods along. 

Franklin and Marci happily recount music from the 1990s, it seems, singing bits and pieces of it constantly. They constantly break into giggles. And there's literally nothing cuter than a droopy Foggy offering him an egg roll, because 'they're very special!'

At the end, in the sunken seats, Foggy asks him if he wants to go home. He agrees, though the little cups appear to be handmade, the work on them is gorgeous. But anyway, he says they should go, because he feels pretty responsible in cutting them off. All he can say is thank god Jones has her super strong body, because anyone else would be dead at that point alone. 

He watches them have fun, and to be honest, it's kind of fun for him. It's interesting. When Jones tries to get Ward to back up some disjointed, nonsensical point she's made, Foggy cuts in and says, "He's agrees-ing with me, huh! Ha."

Just one ha. Ward looks at her and nods. He thinks he's caught the import of the intent behind the words. If only he could tape this stuff for blackmail purposes; what a tragedy. 

Then Marci tells him, "Kiss, I wanna watch, okay, yeah!!" Ward starts, and looks at him. 

Franklin shakes his head at her, though, and says, "No, 'cause he's verra shy, you know." He nods seriously, and she shrugs and says okay. Ward's weirdly touched, and puts his hand on his; he lets him keep it that way. 

He feels kind of victorious, and also comforted by the fact that if he makes any mistakes, none of them will remember. He's safe. 

"Yeah?" Marci says, "you together now?"

She looks at Ward as Foggy answers anyway, "Mmhmm, him 'nn me. Yes." He over-enunciates the last word, and Ward would laugh if he hadn't been kind of scared to hear his response. "Yeah," he confirms. 

Foggy smiles at him, and if he hadn't been transfixed by feeling his approval, he would have noticed Marci doing the same thing. Jones is still off in her own little hard drinking world, mumbling words in a seemingly random order once in a while. 

Eventually, they leave. Marci is the one who pays for everything; but then, she seems to know everyone personally [even if they're connected to Foggy]. He wouldn't be surprised if these places were private member clubs.

He's surprised that Foggy grabs his hand and pulls him out of Marci's car and tows him up to her apartment, with Jones as well. He can't help himself; he turns and looks at Maria in confusion. The three of them are in the process of passing out in the bathtub/floor/on a pile of books?! Is he part of this, or should he be sending each to their own bed?

And why isn't Marci sleeping in her bed, anyway? They've put all the pillows on the floor and are laying on them. I mean, granted, the carpet is very soft and nice. All three took off their shoes when they came in, which was a trip.

You haven't lived until you see three almost unconscious people take off their shoes. Well, try to. He and Maria finally intervened together and helped them. 

Marci's clearly come from money. She's got a ton of pillows, and a ton of stuff that's obviously for Franklin. Although no one needs that many physical cds, he thinks. That's just weird. 

Ward looks around her apartment a little at the sweet photos of Foggy and her together, and then takes off his tie, and his shoes, and lays down beside him. 

He was tired, it seems, because in the next moment he feels like he's woken up. And he has, just at 11:50 a.m. the next morning. All three are still asleep. He looks at Maria; she looks back. "You think I should make eggs and toast for them when they wake up?" she says. 

Ward thinks about it. "We should get out glasses of water first," he decides, and gets up slowly. "And advil. And then that." 

They go together into the kitchen. He also washes his face in her super luxurious bathroom; she's got everything. Fifteen minutes later Foggy shows up. His hair looks funny, all puffed up in the wrong places. "Uhmmgh," he harumphs. Ward smiles, and then tries to smother it. 

As Foggy tries to stuff toast in mouth, taking it out each time as though being offended that he's expected to chew it, Ward ruminates. 

He's kind of gotten ahead of himself, hasn't he, he thinks. Now that he's conveyed to Franklin that he wants to be exclusive [ok, metaphorically, and he surely doesn't recall it, but whatever], and have an actual relationship at some point, he's realized there's going to be a roadblock.

Well, quite a few. 

He hasn't felt any actual feeling in his body for quite some time. It had been vauge unease, shock, pain, and then just nothing. He could barely remember physical feelings other than blackness, emptiness and disconnection with his actual flesh.

So how the hell was he going to get it up if they ever got anywhere? He had had the sinking feeling he wasn't even able to if he tried, so he put off trying. He was busy with work anyway.

Another day, another problem he thinks, and tries to make himself eat some eggs. Jones has already wandered in and eaten two plates of them in the time he's struggled to eat one half of a serving. 

Maria's making fresh fruit juice though, they all love that. Even Marci coos over it, and Foggy looks like a child at a birthday party that just got a pinata. Jones starts chugging grapefruit juice like water. Is all these people drink snapple or something? How weird.


	10. Chapter 10

Foggy had been hanging out with Marci and Jessica Jones exclusively for a while before he added Ward to the list. 

He felt, for the first time, that he wanted to be careful with who he added to his friend list. Even Karen had eventually revealed what she'd done to him; he felt like he was the only person who didn't have something to hide. 

He didn't mind Ward's secrets, though, he was just suffering too much for anyone to blame him for keeping everything to himself. He still looked like someone had dropped a piano on him, and he'd been crushed under it. And anyway, Foggy had heard enough from Danny, and then Marci, and then Jones as well. 

They all had something to say, and none of it was good. At this point Foggy really didn't want to know any more about what had been done to Ward, and what he had done in return. It was clearly more than any person could handle. Ward seemed like it had given him ptsd with a side dose of anxiety bordering on hysteria. 

The most wrenching part to watch was weirdly how Ward struggled to do small talk--even though he had deliberately requested Foggy's presence and acted like he wanted to talk to him. He sat there sometimes, searching for words. It was like he didn't know how to just hang out and have a good time. 

Though he did reach out as if to take his arm, or hand, once in a while, but then realize what he was doing at the last minute. He was very skittish. Foggy had made sure to give him personal space. But not too much--Jessica had told him that Danny said he was interested in the quiet life, and him. And making money.

Foggy approved of all three. 

Their surprise outing hadn't been what Foggy would have liked, but it could have been worse. After Jones had manhandled him into going on a usual drinking escapade with her, she had let it slip that oh yeah, that rich Meachum dude was coming too. 

Foggy had said, "What?" That's it. Nothing else; he couldn't think of what to add. 

Ward was still so thin, and so wary of everything. How could he just pop out for a little partying? Just the other day he had flipped out when Foggy knocked a tray over--gasping for air like he'd been shot, running into his bedroom, chest heaving [he had smoothly jumped over an ottoman on the way like it was nothing].

Foggy had stared after him, worried. 

And then he'd locked himself in that other room. Foggy had turned to the housekeeper in shock, but she'd shrugged. Her face had said, however, that this was how he was. That he was on thin ice like this all the time, ready to run away and try to get to a place of safety.

Foggy had tried to apologize, but Ward had looked afraid of him, like he was going to strike him. It had been hard to bear. He had felt like the kindest thing he could do was to leave. It was just so sad. 

He still just pushed his food around his plate, and would look at him, seemingly wanting to talk, but then seeming unable to. He sent Marci and him presents at the firm sometimes, but they were professional. Big corportations did that, so it wasn't unusual. What was in the gift baskets was, though. 

The gifts were pretty weird, like fancy candles and almond cookies from Chinatown. Marci had raised her eyebrow off her forehead, but Foggy hadn't asked what she thought. If there was a message for him, if this meant something, Ward would tell him. He was done guessing at implications and wondering. 

Why Jones had contrived the evening out, Foggy didn't know. The only possible line of reasoning was that she and Danny had felt Ward needed it. He couldn't imagine how hard it had been; what had she traded with Ward to have him agree to go?

Foggy could barely get him to do anything. Once in a great while he'd go to a game, but that was it. And it was very rare.

For all he acted like he was into him, Ward sure didn't try to go do things with him. Sometimes Foggy felt like he was the only one involved here. 

But then Ward would do things like have his firm request he come over just to try a new sushi place with him [it seemed, since he often didn't even bother to mention work nowadays when he was over. It was Foggy who would remind him of it]. How he got three michelin star restaurants to do delivery, Foggy would never know. 

Foggy was one hundred percent sure they had made a huge mistake. When Ward showed up in the first place he was already almost unsteady, and had a sheen of sweat on his forehead. His hands just imperceptibly trembled. 

He was also impeccably dressed. Foggy and Jones looked more normal. Thankfully he'd already told Marci everything, and she took control like the mastermind she was. She went through different places with him, explaining why they might work. 

They had to be small enough that Ward would feel safe, but not so small that Jessica felt they were 'romantic' or god forbid 'twee'. She got violent with twee. It also had to be on the moral up and up, because Foggy cared about things like not aiding and abetting the mobs of any nationalities. 

It also had to have some unique feature that would capture Ward's interest, so he wouldn't feel unnerved by being in public for so long without Danny's superpowered protection. At least they had Jessica, they agreed, but Ward might feel less safe just because she wasn't his childhood friend who magically returned from being lost all these years.

The bars also had to be unique so that Jessica wasn't annoyed at the fanciness and the well heeled clientele. She often seemed extremely uncomfortable in the presence of the rich or well turned out. But they couldn't go somewhere dark and dive-y, because it could make Ward nervous. 

Finally, they both agreed on three places. Marci called ahead to make sure they would be both expected and treated with respect. Everything had to go well.

Foggy had been worried about the alcohol focus, since Ward never seemed to drink, but Marci insisted he'd love being the only sober one--"He'll be the strongest one there," she said. "He'll be the only one who has it all together, for once. It will level the playing field for a little bit, it'll feel great."

She also had her driver go buy and then deliver a set of teas to each location in case Ward looked like he needed something familiar. She couldn't get over him liking it. "It's just not the done thing, Foggy-bear," she chastised. "Are you sure? People in his position mainline coffee. I know these people."

Nevertheless, it was still the only thing Foggy had seen him drink. At all. Ever.


	11. Chapter 11

The first place is one Foggy has a never [under pain of death] mentioned connection with. He and Marci brainstormed extensively in her office all day. She has a list already scrawled down in her moleskines [why she needs a collection, he doesn't know, it's just paper], while he's made a list on the back of a list of what he needs from the grocery store.

Since he's often over at her place, it's not much. Once in a while he picks up a little funny thing for Ward, and something for Jessica too. Her things require a liquor store shop; Ward's a tea import company, and Marci's either Tiffany's or Barneys. She likes her things nice.

Foggy gets final call on everything on their bar list, but that's usual. When they do things together, that's how it goes. Marci keeps other things from him that she knows he won't like until they're done; then she tells him. 

It's her policy to be honest [but just with him]. He likes that about her, somehow.

Anyway, as a child, a direct blood relative person [also known as his biological mother, but Foggy refuses to ever even think that term, or about that person at all] funded the botanical gardens after finding out that Foggy loved them. It was his birthday present.

He did not appreciate it. But, it does mean that now he can go in when ever he wants, for free even. They know who he is. It's easy to call the head of the board and ask for a tiny favor. Marci pays [or bribes, really] a worker bee there [who Jessica has researched and found no fault in] to act as a barmaid for them. 

Marci starts off the evening with their customary tequila shot, which Ward almost seems to smile at. She likes a ton of limes with hers. Jessica speeds by them, just downing it. Well, some. She's not being impolite, that's just her way. When she does something, she goes full speed. 

He and Marci had also talked about how they need to sit beforehand. Ward can't be too close to her alone. 

While he knows her, of course, he knows Jessica and Foggy better. She's the outlier; the person from his 'real', or 'work' life. And really, it affects him -- here, with her and Jessica there, Ward is much more formal. Even though he knows Jessica through Danny, he's very solicitous of her, as if he's Danny's ambassador. It's almost funny, because Jessica acts like she's got no one watching while he seems to be in a stiff, though respectful, business negotiation. 

Foggy and Marci are just themselves; they always are. That's something he's always loved about her, she is unapologetically herself at all times. Marci has been with him from almost the start, their lives had been similar; except of course her money was from her father, not from an estranged never seen mother.

Ward seems to like the flowers, he wanders slightly forward, looking at them. Of course, when he first walked in, all he did was scan the area [for exits, or threats, Foggy assumes] and greet them, stilted. Foggy gets him to sit down beside him and Jessica, who is arguing with him about the best private eye character of all time. She's very attached to Sam Spade for some reason.

He's too dour, in Foggy's opinion. But it is Jessica's field. [He likes Marlowe and the Raymond Chandler stuff]. He waits to see if Ward will add anything, but he just sits back in the chair and watches them. He looks marginally less stressed, so at least he hasn't hopped up and left yet. 

Marci gives him a look that says it is and will be a success; if they were alone, she'd fistbump him, he knows her looks. Then they drink dark and stormys while looking at the flowers. Foggy likes the cool room for the orchids, it's all mossy and odd looking at night, like a rainbow got lost and forgot it should be only in the daytime. 

Ward's bodyguard trails in after him; he hopes her being there will make him feel more comfortable. Jessica peers at the flowers as Marci tells her about certain ones; she looks like her teenage daughter almost, in her hoodie and jeans [except for the Cuba Libres she keeps downing]. Marci is dressed in her 'cheerful night out for fun' clothes, which means lots of gold, and comfortable dresses that are fifty percent sexy and fifty percent bright colored. 

Foggy likes to have one strawberry daiquiri, followed by a pina colada. He also likes to eat all the fruit on the edges of the glass. He offers Ward some pineapple, but he just jerks his head in what Foggy assumes is a no. So far, he hasn't said anything at all. 

Foggy spoke to him, of course, as did the other two [more perfunctory], but he just nods in return. He seems so on the edge of shaky that Foggy puts a hand on his back and gently walks with him through the orchid rooms. When he eventually takes his hand away, Ward grabs his forearm, in the darkness of the lowly lit warm orchid room. 

Foggy lets him keep it there, because he does seem much calmer--even though he is gripping his arm so tightly he's going to leave marks by accident. He doesn't seem aware of it. 

By the second place, Ward loosens up. Unfortunately, so does Jessica. Ward won't get in the pool on the rooftop apartment of one of Foggy's old clients. He and Marci collaborated once in a while, in the past. The owner is going out, and tells them to have fun swimming. Before she goes, she makes them mint tea.

It's very good, in little cups, and very strong. Marci starts eating the mint right out of the kitchen, so Foggy tells her to stop. They walk out of the kitchen to find Jessica already in the pool. 

Naked.

Ward is seated in a chair outside, staring at the skyline as if she's not there at all. What worries him is that it might be true. That's a pretty wild level of preoccupied; Jessica is gorgeous. Foggy shares a glance with Marci, and he knows she's thinking that too.

The owner has left out towels and some extra clothes of her kids for them to use, so they jump in the water. It's nice and cool, and the breeze makes it almost chilly. They splash around. 

At one point Foggy realizes that Ward is taking off his socks and then he sits by the edge, and delicately puts his toes in, very slowly. The three of them don't comment on it; Foggy thinks that none of them want to make him feel embarrassed. How ironic that him baring his feet is something to treat with decorum, while Jones gets out of the pool in her birthday suit without a care to grab a towel.


	12. Chapter 12

The last place is more of a gamble. It's very beautiful, a living piece of art, but very formal and full of people dressed to the nines. They arranged with the owner to have the servers only approach Marci in all three places [unless otherwise engaged by one of them], just to create a sense of distance and a little bit of coherency. Jessica skulks in after Foggy, already pretty drunk, but she just looks like their disaffected child, while Ward and his bodyguard look like a sloshed [ironically] businessman and his secretary. 

He and Marci must seem like whispering cousins, he thinks. She made him wear his causal, light jacket, which he can never keep on, with a soft, light shirt underneath. It's fancy enough to get in with her [who's all eight pounds of gold jewelry, the perfume he bought her, quite a few rubies and a Faure le page bag that looks like a shotgun shell, if they were half made of lizard--she's tried to educate him on what they both should be wearing to no avail] but relaxed enough for him to feel comfortable. 

She even made him put on cologne, which he doesn't like to wear, some type of Creed she chose and sprays on him when he least expects it. She's an ambusher, in many ways. It turns out that both Jessica and Ward take turns smelling his neck later on [her ribaldly, while he's more polite, just leaning in his direction and almost laughing] while Marci laughs, when they're so drunk that only Ward and Maria remember it. 

They never breathe a word.

Marci has an eagle eye for reading people in all the ways Foggy doesn't, except for his acumen with their emotions. He's good at seeing what they really feel, what they think unconsciously. [Well, with one huge exception, but he won't admit that happened].

In the kitchen, before, with the mint tea, they've just finished changing into bathing suits to try the pool--and she's already giving her rundown. "He picked a tie he likes," she rumbled, biting off a mint leaf. "It's Hermes; I like that he's treating this occasion with respect. The shoes are new, custom made. But he's got on something different like Byredo or something, tch," she said, fixing the strap on her bathing suit top. "I hope that's to convey his individuality and coolness, god. He changed his watch, I prefer this one to the usual one. A much nicer vintage. More subdued, personal; not showing off for business, where you need status."

Foggy hadn't noticed anything but the tie. And that Jessica almost looked like she'd done her face up a little, at first he had thought she was flushed just out of the rarity of it; she looked nice both ways to him.

"And Jessica looks good," Foggy had added. He's always liked her. "That's her best leather jacket," Marci agreed. "She usually doesn't break it out. And she wore a necklace underneath her shirt, also unusual. Good on both of them. Even her jeans are her nice dark ones, only a few rugged edges to show she has character." 

Jessica never seems to carry a purse, to Foggy's surprise. He's been told they're positively essential. Marci carries everything from multiple cell phones, to brass knuckles, to lipstick and a gun in hers. She's very safety conscious, about her own safety, that is. 

Ward's bodyguard carried a briefcase that Foggy can't figure out at first, until Marci later tells him it most probably has a gun in it, in a shrug-like tone of voice, like that's normal. And that it's bulletproof. Who doesn't have one of those, he thinks, amused. Only she would potentially agree with Ward that that's something you just have to have.

Ward seems to like the third place, looking around constantly at the art [there are statues from ancient Cambodia that Marci likes there, she had a gold crown made once in that three tiered style that she wears when they go in disguise to ComicCon]--even the cups are unique, all cracked and repaired with liquid gold. He studies them intently. When the server glances at him, he doesn't notice her presence at all, so Foggy asks if they have some tea. 

Spoilers, they do. And quite a few at that. Foggy can't stand the stuff himself.

Ward doesn't say anything to that, either. It seems like a bad sign. At least there's tempura. Ward accepts some when asked, but cuts it so tiny that Foggy would be surprised if he can even taste it, though maybe that's the point. Who knows. 

After that, he's not entirely sure what happens. At some point they go back to Marci's, and Ward comes with them. He's pleased by this. 

He's also pleased that he brought his bodyguard. Ward exchanges looks with her all the time, and seems to trust her. At least he has that happening for him. [Unsurprisingly, she's lovely]. 

She also does things like pull Jessica's hair away from her face when she almost knocks her several drinks over while trying to steal some food off Marci's plate -- she's young, Foggy thinks, full of pity for her. She doesn't know that Marci's deadly with chopsticks. They might as well be knives. 

She also hates when people take food off her plate.

Maria gives him a glass of water, saving him from an oncoming headache, and it's just a nice time all around. Even Ward sits there, looking calm, with tired eyes. He somehow looks old in the dim light, despite that usually helping people; but it's not his face, it's his eyes, his expression.

Ward seems content to watch Marci appreciatively [Foggy thinks], smile at Jessica's superhuman eating and drinking abilities, and gaze at him contemplatively.

Things fade out, but the next morning Ward is practically cheerful. His hair is a bit messed up, but he doesn't act like he cares. It looks sweet, much better than his severe business look. Well, from what he can see from the haze of a hangover. Jessica is full of life of course, because she's half magic. Marci refuses to get up at all.

When he leaves, Ward brushes his cheek with his lips, and says bye, softly, into his ear, his hand holding his wrist gently -- ??? What! And does the same for Marci, where she's buried in the white pillows on her bed. [His bodyguard had picked her up and put her there at some point in the morning.] He's almost intimate with both of them. Foggy both approves and yet feels almost confused. How is he more confident than both of them right now? He shakes Jessica's hand, who does so formally in return, and leaves. 

Foggy feels like he has to catch up. And fast, since Jessica wants to go on a stakeout, while Marci has a trip to Neiman's planned for later. He just wants to watch the Mets game.


	13. Chapter 13

He's been trying a lot of different things. He buys little origami papers and tries to fold them into things... usually into different things than specified. Danny and Joy are getting ready to leave for Paris. Danny seems intent on reassuring him that they'll call him constantly, and it takes him a minute before he realizes that he thinks he'll be scared.

He won't; neither of them could save him before, and there's nothing to save him from now. He's fine.

To their surprise, he goes with them to the airport and says goodbye, hugging them. He almost gets misty eyed.

Danny makes him promise to listen to some cds he left him, which turn out to be bells or something -- those bowl bells, he thinks, since the sound echoes forever and ever. His note says they're supposed to be soothing. Ward has no fucks left to give about how silly what he does is. At least no one's there to watch. 

Well, technically one of his bodyguards is, but Maria really just ignores him. That's why he likes her the best.

Ward lays on the couch in the room with the best view north with his shoes off and listens, staring at the ceiling. 

Joy sends him pictures of things, with snide comments on them. He misses her already. And their trip; but he knows this is for the best. He's too tired to travel, and too prone to feeling unsafe in general. 

He plays video games with Danny on the computer when their time zones align, after Joy sets it up for him. He calls Franklin only to be told that, "I'm in the middle of yelling at someone right now, can I call you back? Are you okay?"

"Yes, it was just a social call," he says, raising his eyebrows, and he hangs up. Foggy's never sounded so ready to smack a wrist with a ruler before. Ward surveys the table of food he'd already ordered flown in from Modena [he loves Italy], since they eat lunch together literally every Thursday at this point, at two o'clock. 

Marci usually does things with him on Friday, which is also when he has a family dinner with Joy and Danny. Ward calls Jessica and asks her to swing by and try some dishes; when she asks if Luke can come, he's pleased. They finally seem to be on track, and Luke's a great person. He's only met him a few times, but Danny loves him.

He has to admit, he thinks, he was so looking forward to Foggy's reaction to Bottura's famous plate, 'Camouflage of a hare in the woods'. It's so unique. He settles for the two of them. 

Jones' reaction to the mossy tableau is almost worth having to miss their usual meetup. It's like she can't decide if she should spit it out or close her mouth, but can't bring herself to even move for a second. Truly a dilemma, he thinks, and takes pity on her by handing her an extra big linen napkin. 

Luke likes the 'Oops, I dropped the lemon tart', cracking up when he opens up the box with it. Even the plate looks broken, making it more funny. Foggy shows up three hours later, his face little red. The two of them are still there, just bickering.

Well, Jessica is as Luke argues with her about the soccer game they have on. She's not a fan, it seems, while he feels they can enjoy it. Ward finds them hilarious.

When Foggy rolls in, all three look up. "What happened to you?" Jessica demands, noting his odd color, and Ward approves. Also, this way he doesn't have to ask, especially in front of them.

Franklin waves a hand. "I made up with him. We are on a talking basis," he says with a flourish. "What's this?" he adds, gesturing to the food.

"Oh man," Jessica says, collapsing back into the couch. "It was terrible. You're lucky you missed it." 

"It was different," Luke disagrees, "it was an experience." 

Foggy looks at Ward. "Get in the car. Let's go to Shake Shack," he says decisively. Ward shrugs. 

They go get into the car after Jessica gives them a list of things she and Luke want, scrawled on the back of a dirty receipt. Foggy tries to decipher it in the elevator to no avail, while he watches, trying to be unhelpful. 

It's fun. He almost doesn't miss Joy and Danny, sometimes.


	14. Chapter 14

"Who did you make up with?" Ward says, as his driver takes them out in the armored car version of an Audi. He picked it so it would be ignored, an average, ugly car that happened to have tinted windows, and bulletproof glass. Foggy isn't the type of person who has problems with people. Ward's never seen someone dislike him, it seems impossible.

Foggy shrugs. "An old friend. We had a falling out, he was lying like a rug all the time. Like, at least tell me you can't tell me, you know? Or afterwards!" He sighed. "But I'm happy it's over, even though really I can't think of anything to say to 'em anyway."

"Good," Ward says, but starts to consider his words. He can't see him being friends with a liar in the first place. Something doesn't make sense there.

Although technically he's friends with Ward, which is a red flag. He's met him; who would want to be friends? There's literally no benefit, especially because Foggy isn't interested in any of the things he has, like power, influence, moola and stuff.

He seems interested only in sincerity, in spending time together. In having fun. 

All Ward has are lies, he thinks. Even a lot of the money must be from ill gotten goods. And he can't tell the truth about anything--about Danny, what happened, what he did, what was done to him, on and on. What a terrible spiral.

And all that blood. What has he ever done that's good, anyway? He can't think of anything. There must be something, he's just blanking under pressure, he hopes.

They get to the place, but Ward takes his hand for a moment, not getting out. He can sense Foggy's questioning look. "I'm not very forthright either," he murmurs, and is suddenly grateful that he's not in this alone. God, what has he told him? Nothing? Nothing.

At least there's Marci too. The pressure's not just on him, Franklin isn't looking to him as an only partner, a sole one. It helps calm him down a little; most people would want the opposite, he thinks, annoyed with himself. "Unless you're joining Danny's cult," Foggy says kindly, "you don't have to be."

"Okay," he says, and pulls Foggy out of the car, turning his head away to smile. It's only a little ways from the car to the storefront. "Besides," Foggy adds, "my list could go on forever. I'm not good with grey areas sometimes, so I go hot and cold. I don't think you have to tell everybody everything, but you can't hide crazy big stuff forever either."

They get in line, still trying to decipher the list, and then he freezes for a second. All the dots fall into place. It's Daredevil, he thinks. In some way, he's got a connection with him. He had assumed his link was with Jessica at first, in some nebulous way, but now he doesn't think so. Danny has almost implied before that Foggy had a legit connection with him and Jessica and Luke, that he knew 'everyone' in Danny's defenders group. But he'd cut himself off, and said it was none of his business.

But of course, it is their business, he thinks. Foggy works for Danny and him and Joy. He's in their camp now; they need to make sure he's taken care of, that he's all good with everything.

When they get back, the match is still on. Jess and Luke are barely paying attention to it. Foggy tsks them. "Where's our thank you?" he tells Ward.

Ward takes his hand, the one not holding a milkshake, and leads him into his bedroom, down the hall. He doesn't bring his own; he has no stomach for food often, and especially when he's worried about what's about to go down. Jessica might do something if Foggy starts slapping the shit out of him [which is the furthest Ward can imagine him physically being hurtful] but to be honest, he wouldn't mind too much. If he forgave him, it's fine.

It's only after he pulls him in through the secure door that Ward thinks this was a bad idea. He sits in a light blue redone eighteenth century chair from Avignon and rubs his forehead, missing how Foggy startles to see that little tiny bonsai plant on his bedside table.

"We keep intense surveillance on all of us," Ward starts, "just for safety reasons. Of course, since you're more new to us, we included you and Marci as well. We've had too many security breaches." And deaths.

"Okay," Foggy says, but Ward can tell he doesn't get it. "My sister watches what you two do, looks at your phones, everything. We can't leave anything to chance anymore. No one can get close to Danny now, he's too big a priority. He's too powerful, important. And we have to protect the company as well." He looks shocked at this; finally, he gets the problems with being even near someone like Ward. "It's not meant to be prying, or to have information to 'use' on you, but it's a security measure we've had in place for a while now."

Foggy thinks about it. "So you've been reading what Marci texts me? Since you met me? At least nothing's interesting happened," he mumbles to himself.

Ward shrugs. "Not particularly, and not me. Joy handles most of that type of thing; sometimes I watch video on everything, that's all." 

Foggy kind of sighs. "Well, we gotta get her a fruit basket, huh. That is dirty with a capital D. Wow. Oh my god, and all the stuff I said about you! And what she said. Jessica's already spent time with us. I mean, I'm sure she really would be happy for the three of, I mean you and us--"

Ward waves his arms and thankfully cuts him off right there. He forces himself to put it out of his mind; he'll have to deal with it later or he'd go all red and blotchy, not a good look. Unfortunately, he's had practice in determindedly not thinking about things. It takes exceptional mental control to compartmentalize like that.

He's got to ask Danny if that's some kind of thing people study, because if so, he could be a great teacher. "Joy doesn't tell me anything that would compromise privacy," he assures him hesitantly, because it's ironic, of course, but they do have a code they try to follow.

They have to protect the four of them with superpowers, and all the extraneous people, like Ward or Marci, because they could be used to get to the group.

"Ohhh," Franklin adds, finally sitting beside him in a matching chair, to his relief, "she's gonna ask 'why are there four thousand photos of her dressed like a princess?'"

Ward just looks at him... is that metaphorical [?], but Foggy shakes his head. "We don't have that kind of time."

Then he levels him with a look, and puts a hand on his wrist, half on his watch. Only he would act like he didn't notice a Moinet [and he doesn't think he does, really, since he throws his own nice things on couches and chairs as if it were worth pennies], but remembers to ask Ward once in a while, 'so how's my friend, mr. plant?' about the bonsai. He continues, breaking into Ward's thoughts. "And which phone of Marci's? She's got so many." Ward doesn't know. 

It would have felt creepy to read what Franklin actually thought and said and wrote, so he'd never asked Joy for a rundown. If he were a bad person, and using him, or anything really, she would have intervened. And gotten Danny to help her.

"So go ahead. Tell me everything you know about me."

Ward really wishes he didn't have to.


	15. Chapter 15

He sits there for a second, speechless, trying to think of what to say. "Let me guess," Foggy says, resigned but amused, "you know about my mother. The other one."

Ward nods, not looking at him. He stares at the flooring in his bedroom instead. The carpet in his room is quite clean, it's almost mind boggling. He'll have to thank the cleaning lady with an extra monetary gift. He always pays his people extremely well, so they'll have no reason to turn against him. 

"All I know are Jean Grey types," Foggy continued, seemingly a propros. "We don't really do anything worth watching, so your sister's kind of wasting her time, but whatever. Unless you count cutting in line, Marci does that a lot. And in the spirit of sharing, I will say that Marci's done the same to you guys." That stops Ward cold. His head snaps up, unsteady.

Foggy's waving his hand as he lays it out. "She thought something was up with Danny coming back, so she kept tabs on everything. It's what she does. And she's very good at inferring things. But even before him, we had another.... issue we were looking into. Just for security purposes, not 'cause we wanted to spy or anything. After that, she figured out Jessica right away, and made her promise to protect me when we went drinking. Which is ironic, since she's so badass even when you don't think of her powers. I was planning to use her as a human shield before I knew what she could do," he says fondly.

"Marci's already planned her birthday party this weekend," Foggy adds, snapping Ward out of his surprise. He opens his mouth, but is too late. "Anyway, after she found out about our 'special' friends, if you know what I mean, she started watching them like a hawk. So I can't totally blame you guys. I'm pretty sure she's watching Danny to make sure he doesn't go evil or get brainwashed."

Ward nods, kind of at a loss. At least that's two more sets of eyes on Danny, making sure he's okay, and on the up and up. "Have her watch me," he says, finally. Foggy raises his eyebrows.

"I want to be... to not be bad," Ward finishes, weakly. 

He nods at him, as though accepting his request. And the unstated one of: you watch me too, okay? Not just Marci, you.

"Marci already sent your secretary a party invite, it'll be at her apartment; Jessica told her once that her place is 'both fancy and smarmy, but okay'," Foggy told him, remembering suddenly. "So we can make it special and everyone will feel safe to be themselves. There's going to be a whole tray of shots just for her. And some gifts she will not need, want, or understand, if I'm being honest."

Ward slouched back in his chair. "Like what?" He couldn't imagine anyone getting anything for Jessica. She was so self-contained, so whole just as herself, as if she didn't look elsewhere for fulfillment. Well, except for in alcohol, but other than that, no.

Foggy smiled. "Two water guns in different sizes, a giant cat stuffed animal from Japan, special energy bars, those weird heavy business cards with golden type, and a desert eagle."

Ward hadn't expected a list. "I didn't even know it was her birthday," he admitted. "I'm not good with that type of thing, I guess. I don't really know her."

He tilted his head at him. "Then get to," he said easily, like it was easy. Well, for Foggy it probably was, Ward had to admit.

"Put in a bottle of whiskey from me," Ward decided. "I'll have one of my guards bring it over to Marci's."

"Aren't you going to come?" he asked.

Ward wrinkled his nose until he recalled how off-putting it must make him look. He stopped immediately. "Danny and Joy will be back this weekend," he demurred, tactfully not mentioning that Danny could not possibly be attending this gathering, and would not be thrilled to find out.

"Oh, she already asked him," Foggy corrected him. "Danny said he'll be there. He said they were taking an early flight home."

Hopefully not because they thought he wasn't baring up well under pressure, Ward thought. The party happens, and he doesn't go, despite Danny pleading with him. Well, in a very polite and non-forceful way. Ward wants to hang with Joy instead. She likes to display all her purchases for him as he critiques them with her. 

They are truly siblings sometimes; so alike in so many traits. 

On Sunday, he and Joy go tie shopping. Yeah, it's the best. They go to Brioni, Kiton. And of course, Joy goes accessory shopping. They check in on Danny; he's sleeping it off at Marci's. Her driver allows one of Ward's guards to check on everyone--they're all asleep.

Ward watches the video they'd taken. It pans around the rooms and then focuses on each one of them. He's pretty sure Franklin has on a kimono. Marci's wearing a bikini, and Jessica is in what looks like Foggy's pjamas, but he doesn't begrudge her it. They look comfy. She has on a giant, oversized Tiffany's heart, 'return here' silver chain neckace. It looks like it's for a giant. Luke is sleeping on the couch in a t-shirt and boxers like a more normal person.

Someone has clearly written words in lipstick on his face.

There's a beachball-sized cheese ball with chopsticks sticking out of it all over on one of the tables. And several pinatas all ripped open. In the kitchen, there's a tower of precariously balanced, tiny square rainbow cookies. It's the many empty bottles of Hawaiian punch that give him pause, though.

He shrugs, and closes his phone, satisfied. They should have fun, they're fun people. He and Joy have things to accumulate--shopping is their jam. Joy is currently commanding the wait staff at the cafe in Hermes, they're taking a momentary break after she'd dismissed everything on offer in the store as pathetic. [It's god's honest truth, he agrees]. 

While Danny is easy to have fun with, he's not into consumerism or accumulation. Or expensive stuff. Also, he just has terrible taste anyway. And as much as Foggy is great, he doesn't care about objects. 

[Ward had once asked him about his watch; it was a gift from Marci, of course. She did indeed pick out a lot of his shirts, jackets, and tie combos.]


	16. Chapter 16

Danny fails his first attempt at the GED. Then Ward almost knocks the bonsai tree off his bedside table. It's a bad week all around. 

[He may or may not have had a minor panic attack upon seeing it wobble precariously on the edge of the table, and eventually considered buying himself an inhaler, even though he doesn't have asthma. It seems like it would be a soothing thing to focus on during a moment of panic. He'll have to look into it.] 

He finds this 'test result information' out from Joy, because apparently Danny doesn't want to tell him. He feels weirdly hurt, even though rationally he understands that it's a private moment that Danny might be upset about. Ward doesn't really think of Danny as normal in terms of being disappointed--maybe when he doesn't find a magic gate, or defeat some crazy villain, but not with normal, regular life stuff. He somehow seems beyond that. 

And it's no surprise he failed, anyway, Ward ruminates, sitting at his desk in his apartment office room as he works. All Danny does is work on finding, fighting and defeating evil people, or forces, whatever. 

He barely studies, at least with Ward there, when he comes over. But he can't imagine Danny fitting in a lot of time for memorizing basic American history and the quadratic equation. 

He waits for the next time Danny comes over, ready to tell him that it's great that he tried, it's given him a new and valuable experience, now the next time will be easier before he realizes that he hasn't come over for over a week.

And then two. Time passes.

When Franklin shows up for their usually Thursday lunch, he asks him if they can take a quick trip over to Joy's. Foggy doesn't mind, of course, and Ward feels grateful he's even gotten to meet him. He's good at sensing things, and being supportive. This is important to Ward. 

Also, he needs the backup, just like as an emotional security blanket, because he hasn't actually gone over alone to Joy's since everything happened. He's gone out with Joy, or with Franklin, or with Joy and Danny, but not this, to Joy's apartment. Her old rooms. Not alone. 

Joy's apartment rooms are very relaxed Danish in style. She likes everything to look inobstrusive, while Ward prefers things more 'there', more gold and beautiful antique books with gorgeous covers. 

Just the other day Franklin had started reading 'A sentimental journey through France and Italy' while looking at the bookshelves in his room. They do that sometimes, hang out in his bedroom now. 

He likes it when they read on the bed together; Franklin will pick a book from his shelves of printings from the 1700 and 1800s, and he will read finance reports. They take their shoes off, which always makes him think of when he took Foggy's off at Marci's apartment; an oddly intimate moment, even though he knows he doesn't remember it. 

Sometimes they just sit there, up against all the pillows on his bed [he'd been mocked before for having three instead of two, so now he'll be damned if he doesn't have seven. Also, they're very comfortable to lean against, or put your feet up on. A thousand reasons for them, really.] His head almost touched Franklin's sleeve once, but he resisted going further. 

He knows firsthand what it feels like when you have no personal space, no mental space. No emotional space. He doesn't ever want to make someone else feel crowded. Somehow, being so close to resting his head on the edge of Foggy's arm is enough. It feels special. 

And it's nice to hear Franklin's reaction to seeing all his real, his personal things. His feelings about whatever particular book he's pulled out and the artistry of the binding and illustrations, what he thinks about the most expensive sheets you can buy [though Ward does not illuminate what anything cost, sure that he will be shocked at the reality of dollars and cents].

Foggy is a man who glides through life, even his [earlier, and once described] 'struggling' or 'broke-ness' is more like genteel and lovely minimalism. He never acts worried or concerned, which Ward takes to mean that his mother has no control over his trust fund [he knows what it's like for it to be the opposite]. It must be fully his for him to be so secure, and when he has it checked out, it turns out he's right. And of course he has Marci, and his own natural agreeableness. 

God, even Hogarth likes him. Ward can hear it in her voice when she mentions him. He's just soft, and special; like Danny, but un-magic-powered. His magic power is that he's a balm to the soul, like water in the desert.

And yet, despite Foggy's ease in the world of the moneyed, his gentle preference for the simple and plain coming across as refined and down to earth, he clearly does not know prices. He's shocked when Ward remarks on his watch; first looking puzzled at the idea that it's expensive, [saying it's 'some old thing from a vintage store' that Marci gave him], and then like he can't believe it could be worth something. 

He just doesn't care about appearances, and so they don't show up on his mental radar, Ward thinks. His 'old' watch is more like twenty thousand dollars at least, but he'll bet that Marci didn't mention that. He decides not to break it to him. 

Ward wishes he didn't care about how much his shoes cost. Or notice who wears what and how it ranks them socially, financially and successfully. He longs for the idea of checking out like Foggy has seemed to naturally done. To just relax from being on guard, from scanning and interpreting all the subtle signals of the elite world. 

Foggy's way seems so much more calm. 

His driver pulls up to Joy's apartment building and Maria goes in with them, first, being her bodyguard self. His security footage has shown him Danny doing exactly what they find him doing--breaking up oreos with his hands into a giant latte mug of milk and then drinking it. Rinse and repeat. 

Well, not literally, Danny's never cleaned a dish in his life, at least at home with Joy or Ward. They have people for that kind of thing. 

He raises an eyebrow at Maria and looks at Ward, shocked, when he sees him. He doubts Danny notices that Foggy is there at all, he looks so surprised.

"Hey, uh, Ward," he says, unsure. His voice almost wobbled off at the end, and it kills Ward to hear him sound like that. 

He's wearing his usual uniform of sweatpants and random pjama t-shirts. He has socks on though, which he only wears when he doesn't feel good. It must be something about mystical energy that makes him always like to be barefoot or in flipflops at home usually.

"Danny," he says smoothly, and sits down in the chair by the couch. Maria is casing the place, even though they both reviewed it on footage in the car before going in [to Foggy's bemusement] and at several times this afternoon before setting out. It's always good to be prepared. 

Danny stares at him, half an oreo crumbling on his sweatpants, unbeknownst to him. He doesn't care about things being dirty like Ward does; he manfully forces down his urge to tell him to clean it up and/or stop as well, and gets to the point. 

"It took me a thousand tries to be a worthwhile person, and I didn't get there forever. It's going to take you way less time to finangle that stupid test. I'll have a tutor come over here when you're available so that you can approach it at your own speed, on your own schedule. You've already gotten way farther than me in many other subjects," and at this he peters out. 

Danny looks surprised, but then he kind of half smiles at him in a way that lets Ward know they're good. It's then that Ward remembers he brought Foggy with him, and he's currently standing behind his chair like some kind of minder, or teacher, watching Ward's actions. 

He hopes he passed this test. With a jolt, it looks like Danny's finally noticed Franklin as well. "Whoa, Foggy, sit down, don't stand over there--there's a chair right here, or, I could move over, come on--" He shuffles around, and finally puts the oreo down. Franklin just laughs at him. 

They hang out with Danny for a little while, and then Ward claims work as a pretext for he and Foggy to go, but he can tell Danny doesn't mind. 

Back at his office room at home, however, is Marci.


	17. Chapter 17

She's sitting on one of the tables [but not his desk or chair, he notes, pleased--he and Marci both understand the signaling of their particular one percenter world] watching one of his enormous collection of ocean documentaries. 

Not sad ones, or activist ones, just tv shows that show the ocean. Ones about sharks in the depths, about the bottom of it all on the ocean floor, about coral reefs, about different types of fish.

They all only show the water, no people [though it's narrated]. Ward loves the idea of that endless blue, the quiet darkness. Even tide pools are okay, but he likes being totally under the surface.

Marci swings a Valentino high heeled shoe and hops off the little side table. Joy has some of those as well. He can usually tell both of their moods by their purses, and this time does not disappoint. As she quirks her mouth at him, ie. pleased to see him, it's a social call for something she deems fun, he notes her Soho disco purse. 

He's never been so glad to see Gucci. For her, that's practically Dolce. It's their New York version of 'fun in the sun', of cutting loose.

"I like this one," she tells him, nodding at the screen on the wall. How she found that hidden projector and tv screen, he'll have to find out. He has a feeling it was one of his people giving her something to do while she waited though; they must have noticed how he likes her and Franklin. 

Well, he did order his people to treat them with respect, admittedly. The only other ones in that category are Danny and Joy. And Jessica; and Luke. 

He looks at the screen as she greets Franklin. It's the one about how tons of fish hang out near or in shipwrecks. Each ocean piece has some unique thing about it to differentiate it, Ward finds. 

"I'm having a little get together at my place," Marci tells him, turning away from Franklin, while brushing his jacket shoulder. She doesn't have to look at him to know exactly where he is. Ward almost smiles at it. Foggy is the one weak spot in her impenetrable armor. 

But he likes to think of Franklin as being taken care of, of someone caring for him. Thinking of him first. Ward doesn't feel like he's in the right headspace to do that. But he can contribute to a group effort. He feels a kind of contentment with Marci in charge. 

"I'd like you to come," she continues, "you'll make Franklin feel more at home with the movers and shakers and their business jargon."

The man in question starts at this, and protests. Ward watches their interplay, interested now that he's got more of a head back on his shoulders. He's got more attention to give now that he feels somewhat better than he had before. 

"I do," Foggy tells her, and she makes moue of eye rolling implications, without actually rolling them. It's a very evocative gesture. 

"Really, these are the new kids in town, and I want to make a few acquaintances," she tells Ward. But then her face twists a little, and she gives him a look. 

There's something in particular she wants him there for; he can tell this is positive in her mind. It's also personal; it must be for Foggy in some way, he thinks. She wouldn't humble herself to come to him in person unless she had to. But she has. 

She leaves him an invite on his desk, which he finds later. For now, he agrees to come to her shindig, even as Foggy protests his own attendance. He apparently does not like fancy parties. 

They argue over what can be construed as a 'fancy' party all the way to lunch at O Ya. Marci has reserved them a very secluded table--for three. Ward is surprised, he has to admit to himself. [Out of the 23 course tasting menu, Foggy likes exactly 7 things. Marci inhales it all, disconcertingly. Foggy does like the matcha chocolates, though. Ward has Maria sit and eat his tasting menu set. 

She cuts off little bits of rice from some of the sushi pieces with the chopsticks and he eats them, in between plates. He still prefers to eat plain food while in public; it's easier, it helps him feel calm, etc. His bodyguard goes unremarked upon by both Marci and the wait staff at the restaurant, which he appreciates. 

Marci's including him in her way. 

But this is also something else, and after they eat sushi together, he investigates. It's something he's become an expert at. Marci's party invite has a much more detailed explanation of why he should come--because it has a guest list. 

At a glance, Ward recognizes almost every name. They're all leaders in new industries, new giants who are committed to doing things right. To a new ethical standard. 

So she must want Franklin to meet them for some reason, he thinks. But he doesn't want to, then? Hmmmm. 

And his presence will make this smoother, she's all but stated. He begins to wonder if these are the friends she's made because of Franklin's unstated influence; if she sought these people out for their unique qualities, their goodness. And while she's happy to play with the bigwigs, he might not be, he thinks. Is that what this is?

She might be trying to give him the place he should have in society, even, one where he regularly socializes with people at the top of the game. Franklin seems like he'd happily hang out with average people, to be honest. Ward wouldn't, he prefers the best. The greatest. Joy is brilliant, Danny is inquisitive, thinks on his feet and has great intuition. Even Marci is a genius at wiping the floor with her opponents. 

People cross the legal street, metaphorically, so they don't have to face her in court. They'll settle. If it means they don't have to be eviscerated by her, they're happy to. 

Ward decides he'll have to go to the source itself: her. Unfortunately, she's never really talked to Joy personally, just as a friend. It's up to him to figure this out.


	18. Chapter 18

Just as Ward suspected, Marci uses him as a way to ease Franklin into society. Despite having the pedigree, the appropriate childhood schools and ski holidays, because of his actual mother [though the only time Ward hears him refer to her, he usually calls her his ‘fake’ mother], Franklin does not want to mesh. 

He is too casual. He doesn’t want to have to eat at real restaurants all the time, dress up, talk about going to polo matches. Although he and Marci do, it turns out. 

Ward is kind of jealous for the first time. He charitably decides to be happy for them instead. They start to go to a few high profile, secret parties and she asks Ward to come, to his pleasure. 

Literally, as she then takes Franklin’s hand and puts it in his own. They’re both surprised; she just smiles and says she has some negotiations to conduct. “I’m sure you two can have some fun in the meantime; then we can go home, together.” Ward can tell from her tone that that means he’s going to be in a threesome in mere hours.

He has no objections. 

Back at the apartment, Marci opens the door to find Jessica already there and drinking alone. At least she’s talking to someone on the phone as she does so, a woman whose voice Ward thinks is a familiar one, in terms of the media. 

“Get warmed up for me?” Jessica asks, with a smartass look, but then she laughs when she sees Foggy’s face. 

He’s always surprised at her remarks, which she seems to find cute. Ward sometimes thinks she does it just to get a reaction—just to engage with him, to have an excuse to talk to him. He knows the feeling. He still manufactures things to double check in Rand Enterprises contracts. 

Danny’s been busy lately, with secret ninja stuff, so he’s been at loose ends in his free time. He has a particular amount of time blocked out every week for Danny-related activities, but those hours have been empty recently.

Franklin has apparently tenuously forgiven his former law partner Murdock, since he now takes his calls, even in front of Ward. Then Danny told him who he was exactly. It was one thing to suspect it, or something like it, but to know it's true was still surprising. While he’s not sure how he could possibly be who he supposedly is, he does like the idea that Franklin has powerful friends. 

Jessica has covered one of Marci’s black granite tabletops [run through with golden threads, Ward has to get the name of her stone supplier man] with files and photographs. She looks tired. Foggy is happy to be at home, finally. He is effortlessly charming at parties, people can sense his sincerity, his ‘realness’, but he hates it. 

He’s weirdly not into meeting new people. Ward finds that odd, it doesn’t fit with what he knows about him. 

Jessica’s files turn out to be on a person she and Danny are investigating. By now, it’s Christmastime, so Marci’s apartment is appropriately elegant and decorated. She buys Franklin subtly festive Hermes ties and makes him wear them. There’s also the question of presents. 

Ward feels as if he’s broken out of a fog. The previous years he’d been too out of it to even think about Christmas, and he didn’t have to, since Joy arranged everything, including gifts to and from him. Even to Danny. 

God, that must have hurt, he realizes. Those memories seem dim now, as if they were more like a dream than real life. He’s going to have to get everyone actual, thoughtful gifts this year. 

He drifts around Marci’s apartment, examining her shelves as the others talk. His bodyguard trails after him, sits down and starts reading an issue of a travel magazine. Marci and Foggy fight over the phone as they order in Chinese food. Jessica tries to get a word in edgewise and becomes the unfortunate recipient of both of their glares. 

Ward knows better. Never get between two best friends; only they get to argue with each other. 

Marci has all the usual touches in her space, like Diptyque candles and red soled shoes, but she also has books, shelves of gothic novels, and giant Romantic era tomes [Jane Eyre and the like], books of poetry by Dickenson and Shelley, and bottles of Serge Lutens. 

Jessica has progressed to ignoring their argument over what to get, and has opened some champagne — it’s a Drappier Brut Zero, one Churchill liked, he notes. Jessica is chugging it, so he refocuses on the shelves. She incongruously put a bunch of jewelry on one of the shelves, bracelets and a bottle of Calvados from Normandy beside them. 

He starts to plan out his gift list in his head. Franklin has finally wrestled the phone away from her and declares he wants an omelet anyway in the background. 

For Marci, it can’t just be Ladurée and Cartier. It has to be special, and show he appreciates that she’s eased his way into her circle, which includes Franklin. He knows people like him, and she’s one of them—they’re territorial. Foggy is included in that. Like a huge set of special order Pierre Herme flow in from Paris, which he knows she’ll both appreciate and understand. Things like that fly under Foggy’s radar. And some JAR perfume, like Bolt of lightening. 

Danny has to have some video games, and a selection of the best chocolate bars in the world. He already knows all the old, childhood and current candy bars, he’ll enjoy trying some new [to him] things. He won’t understand how special Porcelana chocolate is, but Ward doesn’t care. 

Joy is like Marci. She likes Noka chocolates herself, and Knipschildt truffles. 

“What do you want?” Foggy suddenly asks him, and he snaps out of it. All three of them are fighting over a spatula, despite there being more of them right there on the counter. Apparently they are making omelets. What he wants is toast, to no one’s surprise. 

His cell rings; it’s Danny. It’s a social call. After he explains where he is, who he’s with and that he’s waiting to see who wins a fight over an omelet making race, Danny acts as if it’s not fair that he’s been excluded. 

Ward can’t believe him sometimes. “Can I have one with red peppers? Not the spicy ones, I mean, just the regular ones people put in salads,” Danny clarifies. 

“We’re not at a restaurant,” Ward tries to clarify. “One or more of these three are going to make it. Who knows how it’ll turn out.”

“Hey!” one of them objects, but he’s not sure who exactly, over the squabbling. “Can I come over?” Danny asks, as if he has to ask. 

“Of course,” Ward says. “Maybe you can break up this fight. I’m not getting involved.”

“Great!” he says, as a knock on the door sounds. To no one’s surprise, it’s him. He does break up the fight, and he cooks all the omelets. They're good, even Ward tries a bite.


	19. Chapter 19

Foggy hates being called rich. He almost actively denies it--Ward finds out the hard way. Well, it's more like he's surprised at his restrained vehemence at Jessica when she says it. The whole incident is forgettable except for how he actually reacted, Foggy rarely cares about more than his work. 

But somehow Ward still feels a little unmoored. I mean yes, Foggy does live very 'normal' in comparison to Marci and Ward himself, but really, Ward can't imagine someone so dedicated to seeming 'regular'. Average, non-moneyed. 

He just doesn't get it. When Franklin's light protests at being called loaded don't register with Jessica, she simply continues, unknowingly pushing into dangerous territory. "Because he's with me," Marci states, nodding.

None of them ever actually say that he's with Ward out loud, but he's sure Marci knows. While they don't do many typical 'boyfriend' things, they sure as hell do a lot of things regular, male, platonic friends don't do. They are not bros like he and Danny are. 

He would never let him cuddle, on his actual bed, while stroking his shoulder. 

It's both innocent, all gentle, and possessive in an almost romantic way. Ward doesn't feel rushed to define it. Foggy isn't exactly ready to run off with someone else in a hot second. And he has Marci--the ultimate panopticon eyeball. An eye of sauron peering over his shoulder at anyone who dares to like him. 

Thankfully, he seems to have passed the test. He feels he's been kind of lucky, since he still has no energy to act like people of their class do--cynical, snarky, sharp--when he's with both of them. He's too tired. 

Eventually, Ward hangs out at Marci's suite of rooms without his bodyguard in the room with him... well, she is just a few rooms over, but still. Progress! He feels proud, but doesn't mention it to anyone. 

It's not exactly something you can brag about. Then there's a knock on the door; not a good one. He can tell by the sound, and then Danny is yelling to them. Unbelievably, he also says, "Is anybody there? We might have to try the other place..."

Why does he even buy Danny new cell phones constantly, he thinks, resigned. He never seems to remember them, use them, charge them, or not break them. It's a losing battle. He opens the door after glancing at Marci for a moment, he can tell she considers Danny an acceptable extension of him, so therefore he has clearance here, in her house.

Danny has to carry Jessica into her apartment. It looks terrible, she's covered in blood, and some of it's hers.

Marci and Foggy are shocked, but rally quickly, taking her down to a room that Ward's never been in--it's decorating scheme is quite teen rebel, Ward notices suddenly, as Marci puts a cool washcloth on Jessica's face. 

They've already cleaned the blood off, gotten her shirt off and put another one on, and a minute or two later one of Marci's maids brings a big oval silver platter of drinks--but no alcohol this time. After settling her, and everyone realizing she was fine [in terms of bones, wounds and organs], Danny goes off to Joy, telling Ward he'd promised he'd be back to work on his studying with tonight. Of course, he makes Danny show him his own superficial scrapes before he goes.

He lets him go, secure in the knowledge that Joy is going to make Danny sleep instead of study business strategies and market realities. Neither of them mention that Ward still hasn't been to Joy's apartment after all that happened. 

It's not that he can't, it's just that he can't make himself do it right now. Doesn't everyone feel like that about certain places? Besides, Joy doesn't care, they constantly hang out, just not there. In those old rooms. 

Here, Foggy's already gotten Jessica to take more painkillers than Ward is sure she's ever taken on her own. They've practically covered her in ice packs.

He's very persuasive.

The drink plate has an insane selection: several teacups with different teas already brewed, a fruit yogurt smoothie with a giant piece of pineapple on top, a weak cup of coffee, a hot chocolate with whipped cream on top and sprinkles, and what looks like a cup of Moroccan mint tea in a tiny silver metal encased glass.

They already have a giant pitcher of water and glasses on the bedside table; Marci's help works fast, he has to give them that. But it's all over now, so he has time to look around as Jessica is told to decide what she wants to drink. Ward refrains from suggesting they get gatorade. Marci isn't a 'powerade' having type of person.

And then he spots the little shot glasses on the edge of platter--it has that horrible color, it has to be that vile stuff, he thinks. "You should have the smoothie," Foggy counsels, as Marci fixes her hair, almost combing it with her fingers.

Her touch is so light, it's going to be hours for her to fix that mess, but Jessica looks fine with the situation. She's bundled up in the bedclothes like a visitor to the Arctic. "Because after that you have to have electrolytes," Marci agrees. 

She lays on the bed beside her, shoes kicked off. Foggy has a chair beside the bed, but Ward doesn't feel like he should intrude on Jessica's space. They touch her like they love her; he's more like her friend. He wanders around the room, looking at everything. 

There's a lot to look at, none of it Marci's style. She doesn't want the gatorade, but when she sees it's been put into little shot glasses, she's thrilled. Only them, Ward thinks, and almost smiles. 

"Why is this room so goth? Is this some side effect of you guys loving the '90s so much?" Jessica says, almost rasping it. She's finally noticed how strange the decor looks. It's all black Givenchy slouchy bags and studs on things, but nothing Valentino girly.

It's a very particular aesthetic, and suddenly he has an idea of why. 

Jessica beats him too it. "It almost looks like the anti-you," she tells Marci, furrowing her brow. "It's like...."

She trailed off, and he could see it on her face. It was like it was 'her' room. Made and furnished for her, decorated with things she would like. Everything was in dark, yet soft colors. It had a sense of comfort instead of Marci's severe, cold granite marble style.

"This is one of Marci's extra rooms," Foggy began, and everyone in the room knew he was lying. It was not one of his strengths. 

Marci nodded along, but he could see Jessica's face, and her realization that they had done this for her. That she was a permanent part of their lives, and it was no secret that they were obviously holding back from telling her out of respect for her lone wolf nature [and reputation]. 

They were inviting her to be part of their lives without pressuring her. She liked it, he could see. "So what's in here?" she said finally, quietly. Marci smiled, and called for the maid. 

She had her bring out each item from the big walk in closet that attached to the room, and each piece of jewelry. Each pair of shoes. Marci explained each piece, and Jessica loved it, looking at each thing intently, as if it were some type of written declaration that someone loved her. That she had worth, and was valuable. 

Marci picked up each object, and showed her it while she rested on an enormous stack of imported pillows. When she got to the perfumes on the vanity, she told Foggy to go. "Run along dear, go be a boy. This is a girls night in. I'm going to go through all the nail polishes."

The look on Jessica's face was comical. She was in for an impromptu manicure, he thought. You can do it, he thought in her direction. He hoped she got the message through telepathy; she looked like she needed it as Marci began to spray each perfume on an individual piece of paper for her to sniff and evaluate.

"Keep him in line," she informs Ward as they leave. It feels more like a pronouncement than a request. It's just her way, how she talks. They all know it's the other way around. Ward's the one who still has panic attacks sometimes. He nodded, and followed Foggy out, who kisses Jessica on the forehead before going. 

She's probably feeling more emotionally than physically at this point, he thinks. The two of them have a way of doing that. They've very distracting. 

He follows Foggy back down into what he mentally refers to as 'his' study. Marci set aside a room for Foggy's random 'stuff'. He kind of attracts it. There's everything from a yukata hanging off of a bookcase [it's on a hanger] to a bunch of palo santo wood pieces piled up on a shelf. 

There are different game boards, but odd--like a modernistic chess set that looks like it's from Hermes, and checkers with what appear to gemstone pieces. 

He and Joy might be money, but sometimes Marci and Foggy's true status reveals itself at odd times. He never expects it. 

There's a bed in the corner, but Foggy dramatically lays himself on the Louis XIV divan on the far side of the room. "Can we watch one of those water shows you like?" he asks, and Ward immediately knows what he's talking about.

Ocean documentaries; he finds the tv remote, gets netflix and turns one of the good ones on. All deep blue water, no people. Just coral, seaweed, fish, sharks, and manta rays. He sits in a chair beside the couch. He falls asleep there.


	20. Chapter 20

When they go to bed, when Danny's gone home and Jessica goes off in the guest bedroom that looks suspiciously like it was decorated for her and the three of them in Marci's room, Ward starts to feel a little sick. It was one thing when Marci saucily implied they'd be together; it's another to be standing next to the actual bed in question. He'd rather watch Foggy with Jessica, to be honest; he has no doubt the three of them are very into each other. He's fine with that. 

He feels like he can never take the feeling of 'pressure' again; he doesn't want to be the only person doing anything, even loving. Also, they would be super hot together. Jessica always looks at him with these very distinct looks; while he doesn't doubt she loves Luke, she is definitely open to some fun.

Marci starts taking off her jewelry and laying it on mirrored vanity trays. "Do you want to be alone?" she asks Foggy, but Ward can hear in her voice it's a rhetorical question. 

He nods, and now Ward considers him. Franklin does look kind of droopy. "What's wrong?" he says, but Foggy only shrugs. Marci stands silent, something he hasn't seen her do. She's not speaking about it without his consent, Ward realizes. 

"I had a bad phonecall today," he finally admits. He doesn't say anything else, which is confusing, but Ward doesn't ask. 

It's not too late at night yet, he convinces himself, and asks Foggy if he wants to go to 'read books with ice cream'. Marci looks befuddled, but Franklin finally cracks a little, real smile and says okay. 

The two of them have explored his antique book collection quite a few times, now. A couple of times they got Thai rolled ice cream while out doing something, and leafed through books at home. Ward loves doing it. Foggy has a way of reading a book that looks both idle and totally absorbed.

Ward feels alone enough to actually read and focus on a book, but also relaxed because Franklin's with him, in his bedroom. 

It should feel awkward, but Ward doesn't think it is. And he can tell Foggy doesn't, he's very transparent. 

They find the one still open rolled ice cream place in all of New York using Ward's phone, and his bodyguard slash driver takes them there. [Even she gets an ice cream too.]

Back in his apartment, he feels like he's never been more happy to take off his very expensive shoes and relax. Foggy doesn't care if he doesn't look perfect, or his tie isn't just so. He can be messy, or whatever. 

"Is it better to be alone?" Ward suddenly asks. It just bubbled to the surface of his mind, and he feels safe enough to be honest and say what he wants to. 

Foggy looks at his book and frowns. "I don't being reminded of where I'm from. I don't like cold people. It makes me angry I have to be me. When I go to sleep, afterwards, I just lay there, furious. I'd say it was a first world problem," he joked weakly, "but to be it's not. It's for real."

Ward realizes suddenly that he's talking about his biological mother. 

"You should distract yourself," he proposes, and Foggy kind of smiles, amused, as if he was implying something a little more intimate. But he looks pleased about it, like he'd be down for it. Something crazy possess Ward for a second and he leans over in one fluid motion and kisses him, despite having never done something like that. 

[His family members that will not be named would have actually had him die in an 'accident' if he had]. 

He's not very good at it, to be honest, and it's only as he lets go of him that he realizes what he's done. This is Franklin's fault, he thinks. He was giving me that look!?!

Foggy opens his mouth to say something, but he can't help himself. If he's going to get a polite brushoff, he wants to defend himself. "It's your fault," Ward informs him. 

He kind of laughs, and smiles at him in more of the usual way. "Well, you definitely distracted me. Thank you." But then, and Ward feels weirdly surprised by it, he props himself up more and puts a hand on his wrist, and kisses him. It's very quiet, and proper.

He's into it, but the rest of him isn't. What kind of guy wouldn't pull back the covers with Franklin with them on their bed? Why doesn't anything in his life go right?

Foggy does it again a few more times, but it's very gentle. Ward is almost embarrassed to admit in his own head even that he likes it. It's as chaste as this can be, who wants that, honestly. He's disappointed in himself. 

But he likes the idea that he's an option; that he, himself, is someone who could be found appealing. They eventually just lay there on the bed, and he doesn't remember to do his nighttime rituals of checking the security feeds, changing into his bedclothes [handmade in Italy], and putting a glass of water beside the bed for the inevitable waking nightmare. 

As he falls asleep he thinks: for the first time, money is not the goal with someone who's talking to me. It's a good feeling.


	21. Chapter 21

Marci turns out to love him.... a little too much. After he extricates himself from her very friendly clutches [which were much more chaste and non-touchy than he expected once he got the picture of where this was going], he goes back to his apartment. The business is thriving, and Danny even [finally] gets his GED. 

He gets an enormous, insane surprise party planned by Joy and him and loves it. And for the first time, Ward is sleeping better. He's doing paperwork in his apartment home office when he suddenly pauses and realizes he just feels happy. Time has lessened the strength of his memories. 

Okay, and so has doing endless new cognitive therapy books, as well as making sure he blocks out any stray memories, or hints of memories. Even the bonsai tree looks great. His constant upkeep of it and vigilance has been put to good use there.

He finds himself gazing around the room, yearning for something more. Not from other people, or something, but from himself. He comes to a conclusion while Jessica is discussing Luke at length. 

She somehow got onto that topic from their initial discussion, which was about her current insurance policies, and which ones Ward thinks she should get instead. Currently, her policies are more astrological and crystal-based fine print than anything else, but she's reluctant to go to a doctor. "I never need a doctor anyway," she'd protested earlier, when she first came in. 

It had been a lunch appointment -- always a good idea if you wanted to keep one of the Defenders around for an entire meeting. "Luke's flaw is being too good," she says. Apropos nothing, it seems, though he hadn't been listening for a little while. He was trying to make sense of the papers she'd brought him.

Apparently she's serious as she takes a breath to continue her thought, so he cuts her off while he can, as gracefully as possible. 

"I think I need a project, a goal," he tells her intently. She looks at random points around for a moment before nodding. 

"Everyone has a dream, uh huh--" but he's not done. "I want to make something just for me. Some creative thing. I don't know," he trails off. He continues to discuss the concept with everyone who comes in to meet with him about other things, and it's Danny who of course clues him in on it. 

"Like your books, right?" he asks, as they play video games. He's excited because he hasn't yet broken a gamepad controller that month. Ward hasn't really thought about his books in this vein. But they technically are antiques. He could have a little antiques dealership, he thinks, of some kind. With that, he sets about working on it. 

It's work, but it's invigorating and fun as well. Franklin helps him pick out what to stock the pretend 'shop' of his with; he likes harps made out of gold and antique boxes for some reason. It's easy with him, relaxed. Their sleepovers feel safe, even if he sometimes has to stop everything out of nowhere. 

Foggy appears to be used to it, the one advantage of having often had panic attacks, flashbacks, and any other possible problematic 'ack'. 

While the Defenders have been handling only low level stuff recently, Marci has been busy with Clint Barton. He has a side hobby as a professional thief -- as long as the item owners don't deserve what they have. So dictators, evil oligarchs and other shady characters are open season. He has never commissioned Clint to fetch something for him but knows about him. 

When Marci visits him next, it's to explain that she and Franklin have been working on exercises [spiritual?? Ward isn't sure] with some Doctor Strange [the name doesn't bode well] but that she thinks he and Joy should try it. Ward pauses, unsure how to formulate the feeling that while his life has been crazy, disturbing and horrible, he and Joy love and support each other in a non-incestuous way. For many reasons, not just the usual, normal person ones. 

"Because you're so similar, so sides to the same coin," Marci continues. "We're supposed to be good at it in the future or something; Kate Bishop and Clint can do everything now -- but they're weird overachievers so I don't care -- but I think you and her might be a good fit. Foggy says you do everything together."

Ward shrugs. "I don't know if that's true, I mean--" She cuts him off and starts counting off on her fingers. "You talk to each other constantly, you both have to approve anything each other does, you often both seem to be able to read each other's mind, and both of you know each other best." 

"We're siblings and business partners," he says, defending it. "That's all normal. We're just staying in touch like anybody would."

Marci just looks at him. "Okay," she says, and glances at her watch. It's some new one, tiny and feminine and encased in diamonds. "I have to get to my next thing. Be a dear and think about it, though." He bids her goodbye, but the thought lingers on. He'll have to discuss it with Joy. 

Part of him wants to reject it out of hand, nonsensical really, but the other part doesn't. It might be nice to do something else with Joy. They both seem to enjoy their time together. .... Ok, and admittedly people did used to mock them by calling them the Borgias. He's intrigued by this new oddity.

**Author's Note:**

> **FYI I take commissions, just message me : )


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